


Take Me Back to the Start

by MissJanjie



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Sweethearts, M/M, Pining, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJanjie/pseuds/MissJanjie
Summary: Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn't over yet.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, Jan Sport/Nicky Doll
Comments: 82
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

“Sweetie, look what I found!”

Brock’s mother let herself into his room - the door had been left slightly ajar, enough for her to take it as permission to enter. 

That, and Brock hadn’t been paying much attention in the first place. He was lazily sprawled out on his bed, only propped up by the pile of pillows behind him. His headphones were in and he was aimlessly scrolling through his phone. It wasn’t until his mom rolled over to him in his desk chair that he became aware of the company. His face scrunched up and his head tilted to the side as he turned off his music. “What’s up?”

She was unfazed, however - being the mother of a teenager meant that this was a common occurrence. “I found this in a box of old photo albums, I think this one’s from your ninth birthday. Or maybe it was your tenth, whichever one you had at the roller rink,” she shrugged off the minor details and handed him the envelope. “Anyway, I thought you might like to look through them. There are so many cute photos, especially of you and José,” as she got up to leave, she murmured offhandedly about ‘what a nice kid he was’ and ‘such a shame they fell out.’ 

Brock waited until the door shut behind her before he looked through the photos. It was from his ninth birthday, he observed. They were fond memories, or at least they ought to be. Nearly every picture had him smiling and laughing – they could have been stock photos for a child’s birthday with how idyllic they looked. 

But he didn’t feel the same sense of whimsical nostalgia that his mother had. When he looked at these captured memories, he felt a melancholic sense of longing. He smiled wanly as he flipped through the stack – a picture of him helping José put his skates on, one of them holding hands as they wobbled around the rink, of them smashing cake onto each other’s faces. Maybe he just missed the beauty of childhood friendship. 

Except it wasn’t just any friendship, not even a best-friendship. Brock had been convinced he found the love of his life before they even started middle school. What they had was special, it was theirs. It was probably why his coming out didn’t come as much of a surprise. 

And when it came down to it, it was why those feelings never left. One would think time would erase the tender yearning that came with a first love, that was what he’d always hoped for, anyway. But seeing him from a distance at school every day didn’t make that any easier. 

“They are good pictures,” Brock conceded to himself, setting all but the hand-holding picture aside. His gaze refocused on the picture and he sighed. “You guys have no idea how easy you have it,” he remarked to the still-frame of his younger self. 

**_Eight Years Earlier…_ **

It was the morning after his birthday, it was bright and sunny and Brock woke up to something poking into his face repeatedly. “Huh?” 

“Finally,” José huffed in exasperation, moving his hand away to place on his hip instead. He looked at the blonde, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. “You sleep like a dang rock. Almost went to get water, splash you awake.” 

Brock yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you for not doing that,” he mumbled, sleepiness still weighing down his voice. He got to his feet as he adjusted to the waking world. “How long have you been up anyway?”

“I don’t got a watch,” he shrugged as they made their way into the kitchen for a pancake breakfast. 

Joan was cutting up some fruit to finish the breakfast spread. “Morning, boys,” she chirped, turning to watch them sit down and help themselves. “Is your mom alright with you coming to the park with us, José?”

The child nodded, dousing his breakfast in syrup until the meal appeared to be equal parts syrup and food. “She said so yesterday at the party.” And he had no reason to lie about that – his mom was just as supportive of their relationship. That, and if she were suspicious, Joan would call to double check. 

And the park wasn’t too far anyway. It was close enough that, once they were dressed and ready, they could walk to within a matter of minutes. They could probably do the trip in their sleep, and Brock was promised the freedom to go there by himself when he turned ten. 

This visit, at least, came with the perfect weather for a day in the park. It was almost unseasonably warm for early March, but comfortable with clear skies and a gentle breeze. The park was occupied without being crowded, and the boys didn’t waste any time before they ran off to play. 

“Look! I don’t even get dizzy when I do it anymore!” Brock boasted proudly as he hung upside down from the monkey bars. He hung like that until he was certain José was looking in approval before he flipped back around and jumped down. 

“See? That’s why you gonna make a great ballerina,” José grinned. Other than his mom, José was the only one that had readily embraced his dreams and aspirations. Hell, he thought it was cool that Brock wanted to be different. 

Brock beamed at the praise. “You’re the best. Hold on, I’m gonna go show my mom,” he turned and started to where she was, sitting at a table in the shade and reading a romance novel. 

But he hadn’t even gotten halfway there when his attention was pulled back to the playground. 

“‘Sup homo?” A couple of older boys – probably in middle school – had come up to José, both towering over him with malicious smirks. 

José scowled and puffed up his chest. “Didn’t yo mamas tell you to leave me alone?”

“Our mamas’ ain’t here,” the other boy retorted in a mockingly whiny tone. 

He huffed, face flushed red with anger, and tried to push past them to walk away, only to be blocked off by the pair, the taller of the two shoving him to the ground. 

They laughed at the way the wind was knocked out of him. “Watch it, fag,” he snapped. 

The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but the next thing they knew, Brock and José were fighting the tweens with all of their might until Joan and another concerned parent came to break up the mele.

“Yo, come at me again, I dare you!” José shouted, kicking and flailing in the woman’s grasp until she struggled to restrain him. 

“Oh whatever, you and your boyfriend aren’t that tough,” the initial aggressor scoffed before he and his buddy left to lick their wounds. 

José was finally released and he looked over to see Brock getting lectured on ‘conflict resolution’ and his stomach twisted with guilt. “It ain’t his fault,” he interrupted, “I was outnumbered, he was just tryna protect me.”

“There are non-violent solutions to bullies,” she pointed out. “But all things considered, I understand both of your actions, though I _definitely_ do not encourage them.” And with that, she allowed the boys to continue playing. 

The two boys sat on the swings, too exhausted to do anything more than sit and lightly sway. 

“I’m sorry I got you sucked into that,” José mumbled, kicking at the dirt. 

“You didn’t, I chose to,” he shrugged, staring up at the sky. “They’re just big jerks, so I’ll always have your back. Even if they think we’re boyfriends.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

Both of them had learned early on what ‘gay’ is, and it didn’t take long for them to figure out that the label fit them. It wasn’t weird, they’d insist, to have crushes on boys instead of girls. But they never told anyone but their mothers, and each other, of course. It wasn’t something they would announce, as even in third grade, they were well aware of the consequences that came with being different, as the targeted bullying proved.

“Well, _I_ don’t think it’s bad,” Brock finally answered. “Do you?”

José shook his head. “I ain’t scared of it or nothin’, but what does being boyfriends even mean if we can’t even go to the movies by ourselves?”

Brock tilted his head. He wasn’t really sure what it meant to be someone’s boyfriend. Living in a single parent household didn’t give him much of a frame of reference, and the sister that he was closest to had a girlfriend, and that just wouldn’t be the same, right? “I dunno. I guess we just do what we want.”

“So, are we boyfriends now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Not long after that, they were called to get ready and head back home, and they pushed themselves up off the swings. Brock looked over at the smaller boy and held out his hand to him. 

José looked at his extended hand, then back up to him before taking it, smiling from ear to ear. Their hands fit together perfectly, it felt like two puzzle pieces connecting together and even if that was the only difference between friends and boyfriends, it was just the improvement they needed. 

**_Present Day_ **

The dinner table was painfully quiet, the only sounds coming from silverware clanking against plates. Except for Brock, who was just pushing his food around the plate with his fork. 

“Are you feeling alright, honey? You’ve hardly eaten a bite.” 

“Huh?” Brock looked up from his plate, only realizing then how much he had spaced out until he was yanked back into reality. It took him another moment to process the question. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just...nervous. First day of school and all.” 

Joan was never much for pushing emotional conversations, for better or for worse, so she accepted that at face value. “Oh, but it’s senior year, you’ll be able to take it easy before you know it!”

He did smile at that, her unwavering optimism usually did the trick when it came to cheering him up. “I know, but until then, the pressure’s on.”

And even on an academic level that was true. The past year consisted primarily of Brock busting his ass to develop a portfolio to apply to the best dance programs in the country. It was all or nothing for him - he didn’t have a backup, no matter what his guidance counselor had advised. It would be insane if he didn’t have the skill to back it up, at least.

When dinner ended, Brock got up and started to clear the table. 

“I’ve got it. I want you to go ahead and relax before tomorrow, alright?”

“Thanks, Mom,” instead of cleaning up, he leaned over to hug her and escaped to his room. He did want to relax, and he was sure he needed to, but he still felt like a tightly wound ticking time bomb. And it was in times like this that, even now, he wished he had José back in his life in any capacity beyond someone he could hardly stand to make eye contact when they passed each other in the halls.

**_Six Years Earlier…_ **

“No. No, no, no, no. I can’t do it. I have to forfeit I-I-I--” Brock was pacing back and forth, shaking with nerves, all until José grabbed his arm with one hand and smacked him with the other. “Hey!”

José rolled his eyes, his grip on Brock’s arm remaining firm. “You being ridiculous as hell right now. You ain’t quittin’, you’re gonna get yo ass on stage and perform the hell out of that routine I seen you practice every day for months now. I don’t care if you got feet so cold they’re in Antarctica, you’re not chickening out.”

Brock whined and pouted and kicked his feet. On one hand, he hated how José left him without a leg to stand on in terms of their argument, but on the other, he knew there was nothing else that would’ve pulled him back into reality, no one else that would’ve been able to talk any sense into him. “But what if I blow it? Like, I trip, or I forget my moves, or I throw up?”

“Okay, ew. But if you do, it’s whatever. There’ll be the next one,” he said simply. “You the youngest one here, there’s gonna be more.”

“That’s the thing! I’m the only one here that’s under thirteen, if I blow it, it’ll be all ‘See? That’s why kids can’t do it’.”

He grabbed his shoulders and stood up on his tiptoes to look into his eyes. “But _you_ can. And you gonna. Now get it together, yo ass is on in five.”

Almost immediately after that, José was ushered away so Brock could be redirected to wait in the wings. He listened to the upbeat pop music fade out, followed by reasonably enthusiastic applause. He watched a girl in a purple, sequined leotard take a dramatic bow before walking offstage, moving with the grace she must have danced with. 

The next thing he knew, he was on the stage, immersed in his routine. It was almost an out-of-body experience, he swore he was watching himself perform instead of actually doing it, as if his body took over to give his mind a much needed rest. 

And just like that, it was over. His chest rose and fell heavily while the crowd cheered for him. Even as he was leaving the stage, he still felt as if he were floating. 

But then he saw José waiting for him and his entire being had something to focus on. With adrenaline still coursing through him, he sprinted towards the smaller boy and spun him around. “Did you see?” he asked breathlessly.

“Hell yeah I saw! That was amazing, I told ya you could do it,” José giggled, his broad smile hidden with his face resting against Brock’s shoulder until he was set back on his feet. “How many people are left?”

“Five, I think,” he shrugged, plopping himself on a couch and gulping down a bottle of water. “Might as well be a million, I don’t wanna know.”

José rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged next to him. “You know that ain’t true. You just gotta like, zone out for a little while, and you’ll be ready. I was right before, so now you gotta believe me. It’s, you know, science or whatever.”

Brock supposed there was merit in José’s logic, at least enough for him not to argue with him. Instead, he quietly rest his head in his lap - looking up at his face was a much better alternative to staring blankly into space until the emcee of the competition called the dancers back to the stage. 

Third place went to a petite girl with box braids styled into a bun and a poised, confident posture that made Brock think a professional gymnast had wandered into a dance competition. And as far as he was concerned, her routine could perform circles around his, so there was no way he had placed. 

“And in second place, we have… Brock Hayhoe!”

 _Wait, what?_ Surely he must’ve heard incorrectly, but the girl next to him nudged him forward, mouthing ‘congrats’ with a warm smile. It hardly even registered that a silver medal was being placed around his neck, and he hadn’t the slightest idea who had taken first. It wasn’t until the fanfare had died down and competitors were reuniting with their families that it hit him - he had placed in his first real dance competition, one that he was supposedly ‘underqualified’ for. 

It was no surprise that as he bounded off the stage, still on cloud nine, his eyes focused right on José, and he picked up speed in a beeline towards him. 

Brock hadn’t even realized what had happened next until a man cleared his throat and stared him down in disapproval. Then it hit him that his hands were cupping José’s face and he realized that not only had he won his first competition; he’d just had his first kiss. 

They stood in awkward silence until they could be relatively isolated. “Wow,” José finally broke the tension. “Wonder what woulda happened if you got the gold.”

And like always, that humor of his put him right at ease. Brock exhaled and smiled gently. “You’re the one that says I overthink everything. Guess that’s what happens when I don’t think at all.”

José laughed and chastely pecked his cheek. “Just don’t think then. Been working for me.”

**_Present Day_ **

It was in the middle of the night, and Brock had been tossing and turning for at least a couple hours now. Defeated by his inability to fall asleep, he threw the covers off of him and rose to his feet, aimlessly walking around his room in hopes of tiring himself out. 

Not long after that, he’d stopped in front of the shelf at the far end of his room. His uncle had built it when he’d started running out of space on his dresser to display his awards. Lately, it had become a source of both affirmation and immense pressure. He had to live up to the reputation he had made for himself in the competition circuit. 

His gaze drifted back to the pictures from his birthday party. It was nights like this that made him miss his exuberant cheerleader that much more. In the years since, no one had ever been able to have the same effect on him. 

Eventually he concluded that being out of bed was doing nothing to tire him out, and gave up. He tucked himself back in, willing himself to sleep with a silent prayer that tomorrow wasn’t torture as a result.

And when Brock blearily shuffled into school the next day it became glaringly obvious that his prayer went unanswered. The fluorescent lights were far too bright and everyone yelling and laughing as they reunited after summer break was far too loud. It was like he was hungover without even getting the fun experience of being drunk.

Then he saw José stride through the halls in his freshly-cleaned cheerleading uniform, he found himself angry, almost irrationally so. His presence was mocking him, the irony was too literal. Even though he knew their paths would cross, he had hoped it wouldn’t be shoved in his face like that. He leaned against the locker, head tilted back and pressed against the metal as he groaned. 

“Senior year and you’re still carrying a torch for him?”

Brock jumped, hitting his head against the locker and cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he hissed, then sighed. “What difference does it make?”

“The difference,” he smirked, “is that you’re going to do something about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

_**Five Years Ago…** _

José lay on his stomach as he placed his notebook out in front of him. It was towards the end of the book, the point where the glitter from the cover would rub off on his wrist when he wrote (and on his bedspread, much to his mother’s chagrin). And the difference between the start and end of the journal was a stark contrast as well.

The first pages of the journal were sweet and endearing. The margins of the pages were littered with hearts and ‘B.H. + J.C.’ and the lines were filled with the rambling and emotions of a lovesick sixth grader. But the tone shifted page by page, up to where he was now, with his latest entries sounding like that of a melodramatic sixth grader instead. 

_I’m getting real tired of how B’s been acting lately. He always in a bad mood but he won’t say why. I mean I know he mad cuz he don’t like my crew, but that ain’t fair. I don’t got no problems with his friends, so what’s the big deal? I’m meeting him tomorrow and I don’t even wanna go. This sucks :(_

Getting his feelings onto pages did make José feel a little better - maybe his guidance counselor had a point - but facing what would almost definitely be an argument with Brock filled him with dread, something he had never associated with the boy before. 

### 

Brock sighed as he stared out in front of him. The sun was starting to set and the playground felt emptier than ever. He dragged the toe of his shoe through the dirt, tracing aimless patterns. He should have never gotten his hopes up, he thought, gaze shifting to stare at the ground. 

“Hey.”

He still didn’t look up. “You said you’d be here an hour ago.”

José sighed, he could feel the hurt in his voice. And the way he refused to make eye contact made it even clearer. “I’m sorry, okay? I knew you was gonna go in on me ‘bout this. I didn’t mean to, but–”

“But you were too busy having fun with your new friends,” he said flatly, as if it didn’t hurt him to acknowledge. “I get it. They’re cool and rich and whatever.” He looked up from the ground, but only to stare up at the sky instead. Ever since the newly-established popular kids took a shine to José, he felt like the boy he’d known for years was turning into a stranger. A stranger he wasn’t too fond of, at that.

And José was put on the defensive at the accusation. Regardless of whether or not it was accurate, it was harsh and stung when it came from someone he cared about. “I’m allowed to have other friends you know. You ain’t the boss of me.”

Brock rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to be,” he retorted before his expression slipped back into a dejected one. “I just don’t wanna lose you to them.”

There was a beat of silence before José swallowed thickly. “Sounds like you’re tryna get me to choose between you and them.” Although his boyfriend was important to him, he was starting to feel overwhelmed. As innocent and light-hearted as their relationship had been, it was already a long one. But truth be told, he wanted the best of both worlds - he wanted Brock and his new clique, and he believed they could coexist if they tried. And he wanted to try.

“I’m not!” Brock got up and walked towards the edge where the dirt met the sidewalk. “But that just proves how separated we are because of them.” 

“Then maybe we _should_ separate,” he could hardly believe what he’d just blurted out. They were never supposed to break up, they even had a pretend wedding the past summer, where they promised to have a real one after college. 

Although Brock had seen the writing on the wall, it didn’t spare him any pain, it didn’t make his heart break into any fewer pieces. His chest was aching and he had to work quickly to blink away the tears that welled up his eyes. “M-Maybe we should.” In a trembling voice, he forced himself to agree, doing his damnedest to hold it together. 

And that was how it ended, the final nail in the coffin of a four-year relationship. They went their separate ways without another word. But the silence didn’t last – it led to many nights spent crying into their pillows, to awkwardly finding excuses to avoid each other at school. And sure, there was an attempted reconciliation over spring break, but they ended up facing the bitter reality that nothing would ever be the same.

_**Present Day** _

Brock could easily understand why everyone flocked to José – he was charming, effervescent, he was _beautiful_. There was simply no doubt about the magnetic attraction he must possess. And truth be told, he admired it, rather than envying it. He didn’t think he could handle the constant spotlight, having it on stage was more than enough as far as he was concerned. 

“You’re staring again,” Courtney observed, poking his cheek to divert the attention he was giving far too freely to the boy at the other table. 

“Am not,” he mumbled. His cheeks heated and turned red, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up to further curl into himself. 

Both of his friends snickered at the haphazard cover-up, which only caused his blush to deepen. 

“If you’re trying to keep your crush under wraps, you could stand for some subtlety,” Steven chided and got flipped off in response. 

Still, Brock couldn’t stop himself from stealing one more glance. This time, he noticed something out of the ordinary. “He’s not sitting next to Kyle,” he noted, his tone lighter. 

Courtney perked right back up. “Oh, you don’t know?” She grinned while he stared blankly. “Okay, so, Kyle went to work at a sleep away sports camp over the summer and ‘allegedly’ hooked up with another counselor. So now they’re on the rocks.” 

If any of them were to know any specific details of José’s personal life, it would be Courtney - for the sole reason that they were both on the cheerleading team, and gossip spread like wildfire among them. They weren’t friends per sé - probably because it was clear where her loyalties lay - but she was able to keep Brock up to date, whether he wanted to be or not. 

“Huh, interesting.” He nodded, trying his best not to let a smile crack. 

And unbeknownst to Brock, that connection she had was good for more than just gossip – it was the missing piece that was about to put their reunion plans into action. 

It all started that afternoon after cheer practice. The coach had just ended the session with an empowering (if not a bit intimidating) speech about how important the upcoming qualifier competition would be to the year’s success. And that was exactly the segue Courtney needed. 

“You know,” she mused, as if she hadn’t rehearsed it a dozen times, “my friend, Brock, had a bunch of dance competition wins under his belt. I bet if he and José work one on one, they could come up with a killer routine.”

The coach pressed her lips into a line as she mulled it over. There didn’t seem to be any issue she could see with bringing in someone with a useful set of skills. “Alright, if your friend’s ready, I think we can get started by Friday.” 

“Perfect! I mean, I’m sure he will be. I’ll go let him know,” she assured, scurrying off before the woman could get another word in edgewise.

She shrugged, then turned and blew her whistle. “José, c’mere!”

José looked up from the conversation he’d been having with two of his teammates and jogged over. “What’s up?” 

“Courtney’s bringing in her friend that’s some dancing prodigy or whatever, and she’s convinced you two can work on a routine that’ll secure us that qualifying position. So, you’re gonna partner off with him during Friday’s practice. Plan accordingly.” 

She left before he could respond, but it didn’t take him too long to put two and two together. And the second he did, his heart started to beat faster and his cheeks felt red hot. 

It normally took a hell of a lot to make José nervous. Whether he was confident in his success or failure, he took on everything headfirst and sorted it out later. But this was different, he had no idea what would happen. He hadn’t been alone with Brock since their brief attempt at getting back together all those years ago. How was he supposed to ‘plan accordingly’ for something like that?

“Babe?”

José jumped and turned around, his heart leaping into his throat. He was embarrassed to admit he’d expected to see Brock, not Kyle. “Huh?”

“I said, are you ready to go or are you still blowing me off?” He repeated, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed. 

He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah… Just lemme get changed.”

“Mhm,” Kyle was already on his phone, texting away and giving a quick nod in confirmation. 

José didn’t realize how badly he needed a shower until he stepped under the hot water. He groaned and rubbed his hands against his face. “What the _fuck_?” he muttered, resting his arm against the wall and pushing his forehead against his arm, sighing heavily as his gaze drifted to the floor. 

God, how he wished he had the words to explain how he felt, how the prospect of being alone with Brock for the first time in a long time sent his heart and soul into overdrive. He wondered if he would have been more calm about it if he and Kyle were on more comfortable terms - reuniting with your ex while your current relationship had one foot in the grave seemed like a dangerous combination in it of itself. 

But when it came down to it, José knew there was only one option. He just had to act as if Brock was any other classmate or teammate he had to work with - nothing more, nothing less. As he walked back to his boyfriend from the locker room, he even bordered on optimistic - maybe they could walk away from this as friends again. 

### 

Brock leaned against the bleachers that bordered the football field and took a drag off his cigarette. “I just wish you had run this plan by me first.” It was clear that he was actively working to remain calm, but the agitation in his tone still remained. 

“I don’t see why you’re so worked up about it.” Courtney shrugged, sitting on one level of the bleachers with her arm propped up on the one above her. “This is totally in your wheelhouse.”

“I’m not a choreographer! I’ve never created a routine for a dozen people, or literally anyone but myself,” he groaned, resting his head against the metal beam.

She leaned over, her arms dangling off the side. “That’s why it’s gonna be a joint effort. You guys can combine your knowledge and that’s how you’ll bond. See? I’m smarter than you think I am.” She looked to Steven to back her up, but he put his hands up to let the two of them duke it out.

“Or you watch too many movies,” Brock huffed. 

And maybe the plan was a little idealistic. Maybe there was too much room for failure for his comfort. But it was the only thing they could come up with, and it had already been put into action. Sure, Brock did know that he could bail on this if he was certain this would blow up in his face, but part of him did want to hang onto a glimmer of hope that maybe his friends were onto something. Besides, he doubted an opportunity to be alone with José would present itself in any other fashion any time soon. 

So, he decided to go along with it. He spent all of his free time over the following days researching group choreography and watching cheer routine compilations. The routines weren’t overly complex, but there were more moving parts than he had ever had to deal with before. It was so much more than flying kicks and pyramids.

By the time the last bell rang on Friday, Brock decided he was as prepared as he could ever be. He grabbed his backpack from his locker and closed it, resting his head against the cool metal as he gathered his thoughts and tried to keep himself calm. 

“You ready for this?”

Whether or not he actually was, Brock nodded and followed Courtney down the hall that stretched from one end of the school to the other, where the gym was. They had to separate and enter through different locker rooms, but reconvened before she introduced him to the coach. 

The woman got up and circled around him like a vulture, eyeing him up and down through narrow, piercing eyes. “Alright, I see it,” she nodded in approval. “He’s got a dancer’s body, probably knows what he’s doing.”

“Thank you?”

She had already stopped listening and gone off to flag down the team captain, waiting with hands on her hips while José jogged over from the other end of the gym. “Alright, José, this is your new choreography partner. You two work here while we take it to the field,” she said before walking off and blowing her whistle, corralling the squad outside, leaving only the former couple in the room. 

They stood there in silence, looking at each other from the few feet of space they’d put between each other. Second felt like hours and both of their stomachs twisted from the tension.

“This is the quietest you’ve ever been,” Brock finally remarked. Both of them laughed softly and the mood seemed to lift. It was a start, he thought. It was definitely a start. And god, he had missed his laugh, even that quiet, controlled version of it. 

“Don’t get too used to it,” he retorted with a grin, running his fingers through his hair and resting his hand on the back of his neck as he looked up at him. “So, you got somethin’ planned, Mr. Choreographer?” 

Brock set his bag down on the bottom row of the bleachers and cocked his head over, gesturing for him to follow. He sat down with his notebook in his lap and flipped open to the most recent page. “I have some sort of outline going, but I’m gonna need you to fill in the blanks, give me what to work with,” he explained. 

José sat beside him. He had initially left too much space, leading him to lean closer to read along off the notebook. It sent a sudden wave of nostalgia through him. Although, thankfully, Brock didn’t smell like a twelve year old boy anymore, there was something comforting and familiar about his scent. It was clean and a bit earthy, like taking a long walk in the middle of spring. It was something he’d like to spray on his pillow - make it the first and last thing to hit him each day. “I think I can handle that. Whatcha need?”

“Technical stuff, mainly. Everyone’s height, physical capacity and limitations. This way we can figure out what sort of routines can work, you know?” he turned to a new page, ready to take down everyone’s names and details. He was actually surprised how easily it all seemed to flow. Once they had gotten over the initial awkwardness in the nature of their reunion, they found that they worked together quite well. They were patient, able to listen and understand each other, it was as if they’d been working as a team the whole time. 

Towards the end of practice, José felt his phone vibrate in his sweatshirt pocket. He rolled his eyes as he looked at the screen and shoved it back in without responding. 

“Something wrong?”

José pressed his lips together and gestured vaguely, mumbling noncommittally. But he could feel Brock’s eyes on him and he knew he wasn’t going to get away with that alone. “Kyle’s just bitching at me ‘cause he don’t got practice today, so he’s waiting on me to give him a ride home. He usually bums rides off his brother, but he got a new job or some shit.”

Brock instantly tensed up at the mention of José’s boyfriend, and the fact that he seemed so annoyed, even unhappy, made him feel justified in his disdain. He wanted to go on a rant, let him know exactly how much of a prick he thought Kyle was. He was biting his tongue to keep venom from spewing out. Instead, he just swallowed his emotions and shook his head. “If he’s so worried about getting home, he can walk, right?”

“Yeah!” He latched right onto that, sitting upright and yanking his phone back out, relaying Brock’s sentiments through text. It was nice to be around someone that wasn’t busy kissing Kyle’s ass, for once. Every other time he had attempted to vent about his relationship, he was met with either indifference or ended up on the losing end of an argument with someone more interested in maintaining their social standing. 

But Brock had never cared about any of that. He had never given a damn about being popular or staying on anyone’s good side. He was perfectly content to have a small friend group on the fringe of high school society. No one ever gave him much trouble, as that would require going out of their way to find him. 

In middle school, that had been the biggest source of friction between the two of them. José had jumped on the opportunity to make new friends and was eager to make them all like him. And they all seemed to share that need for attention. But now, Brock’s introverted indifference was a breath of fresh air. It was a pleasant reminder that the world didn’t revolve around keeping his place at the top of the food chain. 

“You have a visitor.” Brock nudged him to get his attention when Kyle had walked up to the pair. The two of them locked eyes and there was an immediate disdain between them. Anger flashed in his eyes as he looked up at him, daring him to speak to José with the same attitude he had through text. 

Kyle decided not to verbally acknowledge Brock at all, angling his body so he was only facing the other male. “Babe, I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear. I’m just tired. Can we just go? Please?” it wasn’t clear if he actually felt bad or if he was just trying to get back in José’s good graces, but it seemed to be enough. 

“Yeah, uh, we just about done, right?” José looked to Brock with an apologetic grimace as he started to gather his things and get up. 

“Right. We’ll pick back up next time,” Brock’s jaw was clenched as he spoke, shooting a glare towards the quarterback as he shoved his belongings back into his bag. He turned back towards José with a softer expression. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” he patted his shoulder lightly before making his way towards the exit. 

José offered a prompt confirmation and goodbye in response, watching him leave and feeling like a part of himself left with him. It took Kyle’s arm around his waist to get him to leave, but even then he glanced over his shoulder one more time.

“Why are you hanging out with him anyway? Isn’t that Courtney’s weird dancer friend?” 

“He… yeah, he’s just helping us out, that’s all.” That _was_ all, he repeated to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

After a couple of weeks, Brock and José found that working together was a second nature for them. They worked in sync, they listened and learned from each other, and while Brock was still unsteady about choreographing for a group, he felt that as a duo, they could actually come up with something that would win that qualifying position. 

It was their fourth or fifth meeting - this one on their own time - and they were pretty sure they’d laid the groundwork for their routine. And they were pretty damn proud, if they did say so themselves. “Hey, what time is it?”

Brock reached around and grabbed his phone. “About a quarter to six. Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“Yeah, kinda.” He’d promised Kyle they would go see a movie that night, and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that begged him to flake out. As José got up to leave, he turned back towards Brock with a soft, apologetic smile. He hesitated just a bit before speaking, almost as if he were willing away his nerves. “Listen, uh, my birthday’s coming up soon. I’m not goin’ wild or nothin’, but I’m having a party. And you know I can turn up at any party. Anyway, I want yo’ ass there.” 

Of course, Brock knew exactly when his birthday was - he always felt especially lonely on that day. Early on, he used to reminisce on the birthdays they shared together, but lately it had become much easier to simply ignore it entirely. Either way, he brightened right up at the invitation. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Promise.”

José’s smile brightened. His heart was beating a little faster whether he liked it or not. “Yeah, you will,” he confirmed with a light laugh before they said their goodbyes. And he must have still had that smile plastered on his face when he reconvened with his boyfriend because he was getting an odd, borderline angry look.

“You enjoy your ‘practice,’ babe?” he asked with a suspicious raise in his brow.

“Why you gotta say it like that, huh?” His cheeks flushed red, which he could only hope didn’t come off as guilt. “It _is_ practice. This shit’s important. You know that.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “I also _know_ you guys were a thing for years. And no, I don’t care that you were kids. Years are years and you can’t deny that.” Having known both boys for almost as long as they knew each other, he had witnessed tiny snippets of their relationship firsthand, leaving no room for denial. 

José glared and grit his teeth. “The fuck are you accusing me of, huh? Tryna make me look bad to take the heat off yourself?”

The accusation earned him an annoyed scoff and a lack of eye contact. “Oh, cut the fucking temper tantrum, José. I’m just not gonna sit around while you have some _Step Up_ fantasy with someone you’ve already had feelings for.”

“Don’t you think if I was tryna make that happen I woulda left yo two-timin’ ass already? You didn’t do shit to earn a second chance but beg and cry for it. And now you wanna point the fucking finger at me? Don’t even go there, boo.”

His rant must’ve made the impression he’d hoped for, as Kyle went silent and hung his head like a scolded child. “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you like that, I _do_ wanna have a good night with you.” He offered his hand out to the smaller male, waiting in anticipation to see if he’d still take it. 

And he did, despite the fact that the nagging sense of doubt inside him was still there. But that was the first sincere sounding apology he’d ever gotten out of his boyfriend. That had to count for something, right? He would certainly keep telling himself as much if it meant he would be able to enjoy their date night. 

### 

“What do you _mean_ you don’t know what to get him?” Courtney furrowed her brows, shaking her head incredulously. “I thought he used to be like, your entire world.”

Brock grimaced. “And we haven’t spoken in five years. I don’t know about you, but my tastes have changed since middle school. He could be a whole new person in that way, and I don’t wanna look like an idiot in front of him.”

Steve had his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked past store after store in the mall. “Why don’t you just get something like chocolates? Everyone loves chocolate, you can’t strike out on that,” he suggested.

But he waved that off, shaking his head. “No, no, that’s a cop-out. I’m not some distant relative that only comes around for the holidays. I want something that tells him that I care about him… but not like, overly so, you know?”

“Not really.”

“I just don’t want it to seem like I don’t give a fuck. Because I give several fucks. Constantly.”

Courtney placed her hand on his shoulder as they walked into a Macy’s. “I think it’s sweet that you want to show you care. But you shouldn’t overthink it so much. He’s probably just going to be happy that you’re there.”

Brock exhaled deeply as he looked around the store, then coughed a bit on the inhale as he was hit with an influx of various perfumes and colognes that filled the store. “Let’s just start looking for shiny things. I know he still likes shiny things.” He’d been able to ascertain that much from the time they’d spent together recently.

As it turned out, something adequately shiny and something within budget seemed to be incapable of existing within one object. It’d been at least fifteen minutes of wandering through the jewelry department, and the trio had started to become frustrated. 

“What about a watch?” Courtney suggested. “My dad says that’s usually a go-to.” 

“The only watches anyone under forty wears are Apple Watches,” Brock retorted, and it took another few minutes of circling around before something finally caught his eye. “What do you guys think of this?” 

When the other two came up to see what he was looking at, they exchanged looks before both giving a thumbs-up in approval, and not a moment too soon. 

### 

Brock had been staring at himself in the mirror for a good couple of minutes. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was hoping to see - maybe a sudden burst of confidence that would assure him that he looked and felt ready to go. 

Instead, he had to rely on his mother, who was losing her patience. “You’re going to be late, and not even fashionably late. Get a move on, I’ll be in the car.” 

After another look in the mirror, he decided it was as good as it was going to get. He grabbed his jacket and the present and made his way out to the car, spending the entire ride completely silent. If he spoke, he’d just end up psyching himself out and making her turn back home. 

“You’re going to have a great time, I’m sure of it. Call me when you’re done, but if you’re still out by midnight, take an Uber.” 

Brock nodded in confirmation and gave his mom a quick hug before getting out and going into the restaurant. It was a nice place, the kind you would go to if you were treating yourself, but not somewhere that needed to be booked months in advance. The hostess was cheery as she guided him to the back room that was closed exclusively for the party, and there was no turning back from there.

There had to have been at least thirty or forty people in the room, talking and dancing amongst themselves, or eating and drinking off to the side. No one really acknowledged Brock’s presence, so he weaved his way through to set his gift down on the table along with the others, looking around in hopes of crossing paths with José one way or another. 

And he did, eventually. José had managed to untangle himself from the group around him to make his way over to Brock. “You really showed up.”

“I promised I would.” 

Despite the loud music and shouting teens, there was a sudden calmness between the two of them. The onslaught of indescribable noises faded into the background and for a moment it was like they were back at the roller skating rink, or any of the birthdays they’d shared together. 

“I’m really happy you’re here.” 

There seemed to be more that José wanted to say, but he was suddenly whisked away by a group of three girls that Brock recognized from the cheerleading team. 

So, with a content smile, Brock turned to make his way towards the food when he bumped into someone blocking his path. 

Kyle. _Great_.

“Can I help you?” He did his best to seem nonplussed, but he just couldn’t hide the irritation that seeped into his words. Even without an answer, he was trying to figure out how to maneuver around the jock. 

“Oh, cut the shit.” Kyle shoved him back, effectively keeping him from slipping away. “He might be too stupid to catch onto your game, but I’m not. And I’m putting an end to it right now.” 

Brock stood upright, puffing out his chest and narrowing his glare. If looks could kill, he’d be an effective assassin. “Don’t call him stupid,” he hissed. “Maybe if you treated him better, you wouldn’t be so paranoid.”

At this point, a few onlookers had gathered out of casual curiosity. Kyle had an aggressive reputation, after all. And although Brock didn’t have much of a reputation period, the fact that he held his own on a physical level was enough to pique some interest. 

“You’re fucking delusional if you think he’s gonna run back to you just ‘cause you two used to play house,” he stepped closer, trying to intimidate him — which proved to be a bit difficult considering they were about the same height. He then tried to further the attempt by making a sharp, threatening motion towards him. 

But Brock’s reflexes were fast — he pushed back with both hands to his chest, enough to send him stumbling back a couple of steps. Which, in retrospect, might have been the wrong move, as the next thing he knew, he had 185 pounds of football player lunging at him. 

Now, Brock wasn’t a fighter, especially not a physical one. But his only other option was to lay down and let José’s boyfriend wail on him, and that simply wasn’t going to happen. So, he pushed back with all of his might, doing his best to hold his own while a crowd formed around them.

It was all a bit blurry — there was a loud ringing in his ear and his head was throbbing, and he was on the ground, down for the count. In the distance, though, he swore he heard a distinctly familiar voice shouting ‘what the fuck just happened?!’ 

José was out of breath when he caught up with the melee. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Kyle grunted, also splayed out on the floor and not in much better condition. “Ugh, yeah, think I just–“

“Shut the fuck up, I ain’t talking to you!” The absolute fury in his tone was enough to make everyone in earshot take a step back. But he wasn’t paying the crowd any mind as he dropped to his knees and crawled over to Brock’s side.

“How bad you hurtin’?” His voice had completely switched to a soft, gentle one — it was jarring to everyone around them. “You need me to call an amberlance or something?” 

Brock groaned as he managed to sit himself up. His face hurt like a bitch, but he wasn’t bleeding or more than a little swollen. He was dizzy, enough to not even realize how much he was relying on José to hold him up, but was slowly managing to come back to reality. “No, just ice. Advil, maybe.” 

“You heard the man! Ice and Advil! What’s the fucking hold up?” José wasn’t shouting to anyone in particular — just whoever got the job done the fastest. 

And, sure enough, Brock did find himself on a couch with ice on his head and Advil in his system not long after. How long, exactly, was unclear. His mind was still a little fuzzy on the details. 

The one detail that was clear, however, was that José had never left his side, and that fact made Kyle livid. Even with depleted energy, he was huffing and shouting as his friends escorted him out. “Does he blow up like that often?” he asked once he was feeling a bit more himself. 

José gestured vaguely. “He got a temper.”

“He’s never hit _you_ , has he?”

“Never, though sometimes I’d take that over his shouting rants. Motherfucker makes me look like one of them silent French clowns.”

“A mime?” 

Despite everything, they both laughed at that. “Yeah, a mime.” 

There were a few beats of silence before Brock turned to face him. “Why’s a guy like you with such a creep like that?” 

José tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “A guy like me?” 

“Well, yeah,” Brock shrugged. “Someone kind, funny, thoughtful…” He could have gone on for so much longer, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. That, and he was still a bit out of it and knew that if he started to ramble he wouldn’t stop. “What’s he got going for him other than an athletic scholarship?”

It wasn’t that José never questioned his relationship; it was just easier to not think about it. This was how it was supposed to go – the head cheerleader and the quarterback, it was the classic high school romance, wasn’t it? 

“It wasn’t always like this. He was good to me, treated me like a queen, his ride or die. I don’t know what happened,” he sighed and looked down. “I know I look the fool for even thinkin’ bout defending him, but I can’t just feel nothing for him just like that.”

Brock pressed his lips into a fine line and stared straight ahead of him. “I don’t think anyone expects you to stay with him after this, so the choice is really yours.” He was sure people filmed the fight, that it was already making the rounds on social media. His phone was bound to blow up any minute now, and he had no idea how he would tackle that. He couldn’t even think about that – he was still hung up on José‘s take on his relationship with that bully. 

“Anyway,” he continued after what felt like an hour of awkward silence. “I’m gonna text my mom, should still probably go get checked out by a doctor.”

José stood right up. “Let me go with you,” he insisted. 

Brock shook his head. “You’re not wasting your birthday sitting in the ER to see if I have a contusion.” 

“Well, I’m _not_ doing that because I don’t know what a contusion is. But I am going to make sure you didn’t get all fucked up.” He chewed on his lip and bounced uncomfortably on his feet. “‘Sides, this is kinda my fault anyway. He prob’ly wouldn’t have gone after you if he didn’t think you was gonna try something with me. I-I told him the truth, but he ain’t hearing it.”

Brock sighed softly and gently placed his hand on the shorter male’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault. The guy’s a psychopath and you got caught in the cross-hairs.” He gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “And I know you, and how stubborn you are. So I’ll let my mom know you’re coming with us.”

Despite his insistence on joining, the drive to the hospital was still filled with tension. It was dead silent, to the point where even Joan had given up any attempt at small talk within the first five minutes. And their stay in the waiting room proved to only be more silent torture. The worst part, perhaps, was that all of that was only to find out that Brock had sustained nothing more than a minor concussion, along with some scrapes and bruises. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” José remarked as they made their way back the way they came.

Brock looked at him with a weak smile. “Could’ve been a lot worse, I know.” His gaze shifted straightforward. “Are you going to check on him?” 

“I mean, I _should_ , right?”

“No!” He stopped in his tracks, causing José to come to a screeching halt. That was it. That was what made the dam burst. “Jesus Christ, don’t you get it? This is essentially the same boy that pushed us around while shouting ‘faggots,’ the only difference is now you’re letting him fuck you!” He took a breath, the last thing he needed to do was cause a scene in the middle of the hospital. 

José found himself in a bind. He knew Brock was right, he didn’t need to think twice about that. But he wasn’t about to stand and get lectured and leave with his head hung low. His pride simply wouldn’t allow for that. “I took care of myself then, you don’t need to keep talkin’ at me like I’m still a child.”

“Then maybe you should stop acting like one.”

### 

“Dude,” Courtney stared at him blankly. “What the fuck?”

Brock groaned, sprawling out on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I was just… I was so _angry_. It wasn’t even about wanting to be with him, it was… How could that not be enough to break up with someone on the spot?”

“It sounds like it was a lot happening at once,” Steven chimed in. “Maybe he just needs to, I don’t know, process all of it.”

He sat up and furrowed his brows. “So, what are you saying? That I overreacted?”

Both of his friends shook their heads. “Honestly, I’m with you. I can’t fucking stand Kyle,” Courtney admitted. “But you said it yourself, José’s the most stubborn son of a bitch any of us have ever met. Maybe he’s in denial about it.” 

“Give it a little time. He’ll come to his senses and be all yours before you know it.”

Brock ran his fingers over the bruise on his arm, still tender to the touch. “If that’s even what I still want by then.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you stupid?” 

José pouted and looked down. “I feel like that’s a trick question, ain’t it?” 

Not long after the argument at the hospital, he sought out a fresh perspective. He and Silky were very close – even though he’d been using that nickname for so long that he’d get sincerely confused when a teacher used his real one – if there was anyone he thought he could confide in, Silky was that friend. 

Silky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mans went and had a whole ass fight with Brock and you still didn’t find that shit inexcusable?” 

“I’m gonna break up with him!” he snapped before recoiling back into himself. “But then everyone’s gonna think he was right, that me and B got something going on.”

He tilted his head. “And why’s that so bad? Cause y’all had a thing as kids?” His tone softened a bit. “That ain’t a big deal.”

José sighed and tucked his knees under his chin. “It ain’t like that. I just don’t want him to look bad, like a rebound or the ‘other man’ or whatever, even though nothin’ happened between us.”

“Do you _want_ something to happen?”

That brought the conversation to a sudden halt. He hadn’t really thought about it. Or at least, he hadn’t _wanted_ to think about it. It would be embarrassing, he thought, to go back to someone he liked as a child. Why? Well, he didn’t have an answer for that either. 

Finally, José shrugged. “I dunno,” he reluctantly confessed. “I mean, it’s cool or whatever that we still get along but like… ain’t that kinda lame? You can’t find someone new so you go back to your first boyfriend… pathetic.”

“I think it’s romantic. Like in a Nicholas Sparks type of way, and I know you a sucker for that corny shit.” He let out a quiet laugh. “You know that’s a white people Hallmark movie somewhere.” 

He cracked a smile and looked down. When Silky put it that way, it didn’t sound bad at all. In fact it _was_ kind of romantic. Maybe he had been looking at this all wrong. “I don’t wanna go after him just ‘cause it’s a cute story, though.”

“Then it’s between you and you to figure out how the fuck you feel.” Silky shrugged. “‘Cause if you don’t want him, I’mma shoot my shot. He fine for a white boy.”

José laughed and shoved him playfully. “Bitch, shut the fuck up!”

* * *

José sat Kyle down on his sofa before sitting down as well, pointedly leaving more than a solid foot of space between them. As confident as he was in his decision, he was anxious as well. He had linked so much of his social persona to this relationship – it was as if he was breaking up with part of his identity. “You know what’s gonna happen next.” 

Kyle just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “It’s really some fucking bullshit that you’re taking his side in this,” he huffed. 

“He didn’t do nothin’! You jumped him ‘cause you don’t trust me, even though _I’m_ not the untrust- mis- the one that can’t be trusted!” His cheeks flared red and his eyes appeared to darken – now he wished it hadn’t taken so long to reach his breaking point. “I’m so fucking tired of you making everything someone else’s fault.”

“Oh, so it’s always _my_ fault now?”

“Well it sure as shit ain’t _never_ your fault!” José took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of getting overemotional. “Just leave, Kyle. I’m done with yo’ ass for good.” 

Kyle scoffed as he got up. “For good, right. You’ll come crawling back around once dancer boy gets sick of you. Not just anyone can put up with that attitude,” and with that, he left, slamming the door shut behind him. 

He waited until he was certain he was alone before he allowed his emotions to take hold. Tears were flooding from his eyes and strangled sobs forced their way from his throat. It was a terrible feeling he wanted to avoid – he didn’t want to shed a single tear for him, let alone break down like this. 

And this didn’t mean he was ready to address his relationship with Brock yet. There was only so much emotional turmoil he could subject himself to at once. He was so tired of feeling everything so intensely, exhausted after every time he was sent down a spiral. It was something he envied about Brock, he supposed – he could handle so much without faltering, even when he got angry, it wasn’t even close to being on the same scale of Kyle or himself. Maybe everything would be clearer if he had an even temperament, but that was too far fetched. 

But now José was left in limbo, and it didn’t take long for it to start driving him crazy. He needed something, _anything_ to distract himself, and he went up to his room in hopes of finding just that.

His eyes fixed on the pile of presents he’d never gotten around to opening. In the days following his birthday, the wounds were still too fresh for him to let himself go through them, but now was as good a time as any. Besides, he knew it’d probably be mostly cash, and there was never a bad time for that. 

Overall, his guess wasn’t too far off – he’d accumulated plenty of money, gift cards, and Rihanna merchandise, but something stood out to him. There was a neatly wrapped box with a gold bow on top - it shone and sparkled in a way that stood out among all the paper and plastic. Granted, it didn’t stand a chance against José tearing through it, but the real prize was on the inside. 

The box contained a gold, iced-out pendant necklace with a ‘J’ embossed on it. It was eye-catching in a way that some people would find garish or over the top, but not José. To him, it was beautiful, perfect. It was the type of bling and flair he lived for. In fact, he was so caught up in fawning over it that he’d nearly neglected the card. 

In contrast to the shiny gift, the card was simple and to-the-point. It was a standard birthday card on the front. “Dear José,” he read, “I hope you have a great birthday, I definitely missed going to them, and it’s so fun hanging out with you again. Sincerely, Brock.”

 _Oh._

Well, there went his decision to ignore sorting out his feelings. It wasn’t that Brock got him the best gift – that would just be shallow. Rather, it was that outside his immediate family, no one else had gone out of their way to put effort into picking out a gift for him, no one had invested that much care. Shit, Kyle had only gotten him one of those gift boxes from Lush (which would have thrilled him at the time, perhaps). 

Before José let this train of thought go any further, however, there was one important thing to figure out. He had to know where he stood with Brock in the wake of everything that had transpired. There was no point in indulging these feelings if they were one sided, and there was only one way to find out the truth. 

* * *

Gym class was José’s only opportunity to set his course of action. With Brock now at cheer practice, this was the only time he would be able to talk to Courtney unaccompanied by her two friends. He waved her over, leading off to the side by the bleachers. “Does Brock hate me? You know, after the fight and whatever?” 

Courtney blinked, processing the rapidly asked question. “He definitely doesn’t hate you,” she was able to quickly assure. “He’s… I don’t know, maybe a little confused, I’d even go as far as to say frustrated. You know he’s never been in a fight, this is totally new for him.”

That was fair, certainly nothing he could complain about. If anything, he was relieved -- he had braced himself for the worst. “I did break up with Kyle,” he quietly confessed. “He really chewed my ass out for that.”

“Well… can you really blame him for that?” 

“‘Course not. Don’t mean I ain’t hoping he’s not still ignoring me, you know?” José pressed his lips together and looked away. He couldn’t articulate what he was feeling, but he hated it. 

Courtney didn’t want to smile as he was obviously upset, but she was more excited about the opportunity to bring the two boys back together. “Why don’t you come sit with us at lunch? You guys can hash everything out and hopefully move past this whole thing.” 

Even by José’s standards, that seemed a little too simple. But he didn’t see any other option, so he agreed. “I’ll see you guys then.”

The time between gym class and lunch was filled with anxiety and uncertainty. José paid even less attention than usual in class -- figuring out what to say to Brock took precedent. Most everyone knew he didn’t have a way with words -- he often just said as many as he could in one breath and hoped they made sense. But if nothing else, he owed him an honest, well-thought conversation. 

By the time the bell rang, he didn’t feel confident per sé, but he felt better knowing that he wasn’t going in blind. He walked into the cafeteria with a deep breath, stopping only to get his lunch before making his way past his usual table to the much less-populated one. “Mind if I sit here?” 

Courtney slid over on the bench and patted the vacant spot between her and Brock. “Sit, sit.” She gestured him over.

Brock looked up, his sandwich still in both hands and in the middle of chewing the big bite he’d taken out of it. “H’lo,” he managed to say, blinking away the surprise in his expression. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “To what do we owe the honor?” 

“I ain’t been feeling right about what happened since it happened,” José decided to dive right into it before he chickened out. “I shoulda seen how fucked up Kyle was and dumped him on the spot. And I did, but not soon enough. I dunno if you’re still mad at me – and I get it if you are – but I’m real sorry.” 

Brock took a moment to actually absorb his apology. Part of him wanted to say it was too little, too late, but it wasn’t. It probably never would have been. He strummed his fingers on the table and chewed his lip. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses. I accept your apology,” he finally answered. 

José exhaled deeply, a massive weight lifting off of his chest that allowed his entire body to relax. He didn’t realize just how much Brock’s forgiveness meant to him until he got it. “Thanks, B.” He managed to get himself to make eye contact with him. “Really does mean a lot.”

“You can stay and hang out with us, if you want,” Courtney offered when everything seemed calm and quiet. She looked over at Brock for confirmation, but it was clear she wouldn’t be able to get his attention with the way his gaze was fixated on José.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” Brock observed with a soft smile.

José’s hand instinctively went to the pendant, gently clutching the letter. “Yeah,” he smiled softly and looked down. “It’s really… it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You should’ve seen him at the mall on a wild goose chase for it. Thought we’d be there til closing,” Steven chimed in, then winced as he was kicked under the table. “What? It was like a really intense treasure hunt.”

Red-faced, Brock looked down and chewed on his bottom lip. “It looks good on you,” he said, effectively ignoring his friend’s commentary. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

Suddenly feeling like third wheels, Courtney and Steven shifted off to the other end of the table - not that the other two noticed, of course. They exchanged broad grins and nods of approval as things seemed to finally start to fall into place. 

“You still coming to practice today, right? Routine’s finally starting to, you know, shape up.”

Brock nodded, still beaming warmly. “Of course. Can’t let the team down, right?” He nudged José lightly. He still wasn’t a choreographer, but they’d both grown a confidence in his ability to pull something together in time. 

José nodded, then cleared his throat. “Coach wants us to have somethin’ to show by next week. Not like, the whole damn thing, but we gotta show we not just fuckin’ around or whatever.” 

The pressure was on then, and Brock had to make a conscious effort to not seem affected. If he started to stress, José would feed off that energy, and everything would fall apart before it even had the chance to come together. “We’ll just have to work harder; you and I can fit in some extra time, right?” 

“Yeah. You busy later? We can meet up after school. Gym’s gonna be in use though, so I don’t know–”

“Oh, just come over then.” 

It seemed like a reasonable, obvious suggestion. But José felt his heart jump into his throat and his cheeks tint red. “Sure!” he answered before his silence seemed suspicious (silence in itself for him was practically out of his character). 

Luckily for him, Brock didn’t seem to notice. “Okay, great.” He smiled. 

Not long after that, the bell rang and the two of them had to go their separate ways. Once alone, Courtney and Steven caught back up to Brock, both grinning broadly. 

“Don’t say it.” 

They didn’t need to – their shit-eating grins were enough to make him groan and roll his eyes. “Look, I’m just glad we’re on good terms. That’s it, okay?” he insisted, regardless of how unconvincing it was. 

Maybe it was because he wasn’t convinced of it himself. He had really thought he was getting over his crush, only to realize he couldn’t even go a week without falling right back into it. The only thing that was different this time was the glimmer of hope that it wasn’t completely one-sided anymore. 

* * *

José pushed his hands into his pockets as he looked around the bedroom. While there had been some obvious cosmetic changes since his last visit, he was still hit with a wave of nostalgia. 

“Aw, you still got that dent in the wall!” He crouched down and ran his hand over the spot. It was the result of Brock attempting to teach him some of his competition dance moves with less than ideal results. 

Brock chuckled and sat at the edge of his bed. “It adds character.” That, and he was the sentimental type. Even if the memory would damage the potential resale value of the house, he wouldn’t want to erase it. “That said, we should probably be careful if we practice the routine in here,” he added with a laugh.

“Hey! I know what I’m doing now!” he huffed, though he couldn’t stifle a laugh. “‘Sides, you don’t get to the top without some damage.”

“From what I hear, you’re not a top at all,” he retorted.

José’s face flushed red. “Don’t worry ‘bout what you been hearing,” he said, then muttered “even if it’s true.”

Truth be told, Brock hadn’t heard it anywhere - it was just a hunch that turned out to be right on the nose. Not that it mattered to him or anything, of course. It certainly wasn’t something he had thought about more than once or twice. “I won’t go around talking, don’t worry,” he assured as he got his notebook out. “Now, what the hell are we gonna pull together by next week?”

“Don’t look at me, you the brains of this little operation here.”

Brock frowned and reached out to tug at his arm and pull the smaller male to sit beside him on the bed. “That’s not true, you’ve got plenty of smarts in this field. You said it yourself, you made your way to the top, collateral damage and all.” 

That made José turn redder than the ‘top’ comment had, albeit for a different reason. He had been complimented for a variety of things over the years, but never for being smart, even when it came to things that he knew he excelled at. That sort of word just didn’t get associated with him. And for the most part, it didn’t bother him - it wasn’t even something he thought about very often. But hearing that - hearing that from _Brock_ \- caused a pleasant warmth to spread through him, a warmth he hadn’t felt in quite some time. 

“Guess I can’t argue with that.” He shrugged, doing his best to play it off nonchalantly and focusing his attention on the routine. With the background they had built up, they had actually made significant progress in their outline, leaving them right on track to be able to turn something in with the coach on time. 

It did come at the expense of taking up the rest of their day - not that either of them seemed to notice, until José finally looked out the window. “Oh shit, it’s dark out. Told my mama I’d be home for dinner, better haul ass home,” he chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Brock nodded as he got up. “Understandable, tell her I said hi,” he hummed as he helped him gather his things. 

“We’ll do this again tomorrow, we did good,” José threw his bag over his shoulder and started towards the door.

But then he stopped. He stood in place. Then he turned to face Brock’s direction, his body otherwise frozen in place. 

“Did you forget something?”

“Yeah,” José suddenly broke into a brisk walk towards him, an impulse propelling him forward. “This,” he grabbed Brock by his shirt, pulling him in and kissing him hard. 

Brock’s eyes went wide, then shut completely. One hand rested on José’s shoulder, the other on the back of his head. He kissed back, losing himself in the moment and allowing years of longing to pour into that one moment. 

Neither of them wanted to be the one to break it, leaving them both breathing heavily when they had no other choice. A few quiet moments followed, both of them grinned from ear to ear.

“I really do gotta go,” José finally said, turning to leave and, with his hand on the doorknob, turned his head back to him, offering a wink and a smile before making his exit.


	5. Chapter 5

To say Brock had a tendency to overanalyze things would be the understatement of the century. So, to suddenly be kissed by someone he’d been pining for - especially after everything they had recently been through - was enough to keep him up at night. Tossing and turning, getting up and lying back down, there was nothing he could do to quell the overwhelming onslaught of conflicting emotions towards a memory that wouldn’t stop playing on repeat. 

Finally, he sat up and grabbed his phone. “Yes, I know it’s almost three in the morning. You got me into this mess, so you have to listen to the details,” he said as soon as Courtney picked up the other line. 

“What mess? What details? I… What?” The groggy voice answered. 

Brock exhaled deeply and flopped back down on the bed. “Maybe not ‘mess’… _I’m_ a mess, actually.”

“Elaborate.”

“José kissed me. And bitch, I mean he _kissed_ me. Like, I swear my soul left my body for a minute there. It was… it was totally out of nowhere but, I don’t know, it felt right. It felt like we both needed it. I just have no idea what to do now.”

There was a beat of silence before Brock could hear Courtney trying to stifle what he could only assume was a squeal of delight. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You didn’t even have to make the first move! You can’t even doubt that he feels something for you.”

“Don’t question my ability to doubt, Courtney,” he countered. “What if he just wanted to get it out of his system so he could move on?”

She groaned and let out an exasperated breath. “Do you hear yourself when you talk like this? He’s not that type, not from what I’ve seen. Do you know what the issue is? I think you’re scared. I think that now that you know your feelings might be mutual, it got too real, and you’re afraid it won’t live up to your expectations.”

“Are you done psychoanalyzing me?”

“Am I wrong though?”

Silence.

“Exactly. Talk to him. Or just kiss him, that seemed to get the job done,” she chuckled. “I need to get to sleep now, babe. You gonna be alright?”

That was the million dollar question. While he knew in theory he should feel alright, more than alright even. He wished he could simply shut his mind down and allow himself to bask in the afterglow of sharing a passionate kiss with someone he’d spent all this time longing for. 

“I think so,” he finally offered, then ended the call after they shared goodbyes. 

He set his phone down on his nightstand and buried his face in his pillows. There wasn’t much time left for a proper night’s sleep, but he did feel more relaxed after getting his feelings out to another person. Addressing them with José, however, would be a different story entirely.

### 

“How are you holding up, B?” 

Brock rested his head against the lockers and stared up at the ceiling. “I talked myself down in the shower, I’m okay. It was only a kiss, right?”

“Hope your shower pep talk worked, Mr. Brightside, ‘cause here he comes,” Courtney hummed before ducking out of the way, leaving José with a clear path to walk right towards him.

“Hey,” José mimicked Brock’s pose, leaning against the locker and tilting his head against it with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

Brock looked over at him and let out a soft chuckle. “You making fun of me?” 

“Ain’t my fault your resting pose looks like you tryna be a fuckin’ T-Bird.” 

He breathed out a soft laugh and elbowed his shoulder lightly. “Oh, shut up.”

As Brock’s arm dropped back down, his hand lingered. It swung and twitched a bit awkwardly as it shifted ever so slightly closer to José’s. Their skin touched, goosebumps spreading up both of their arms. He inched closer still, letting their pointer fingers link. 

José looked up at him, and he could feel the nerves radiating off of him. There was a shyness, a hesitation that still hadn’t dissipated. So, he looked out into the distance, as if they just happened to be occupying the same space. But he held his hand properly, standing in silence with their fingers laced. He stole another glance and saw Brock had relaxed, and couldn’t help but smile as his gaze drifted down to the floor. Suddenly they were nine years old and holding hands for the first time all over again. 

The peaceful coexistence lasted until the bell rang, the jarring noise forcing them back into reality. They reluctantly let go of each other’s hands and returned them to their previous positions buried in their pockets. 

“I’ll see you at practice?” There was a quiet hopefulness in José’s voice, a vulnerability that made it impossible to hide that it was far beyond just the cheerleading.

Brock bit his lip and nodded. “I’ll be there,” a smile tugged at his lips and he gave his shoulder a light squeeze. He stood at his locker a bit longer as he watched the smaller male walk away, cheeks pink and smile wide. 

Courtney laughed softly and took him by the arm. “Come on, puppy love. You’ll have plenty of time to make heart eyes at him later.”

“You make me sound so lame,” he huffed as they made their way down the hall. 

“Babe, you do that all on your own. But it’s cute, I’m rooting for you two.”

Brock felt his blood run cold as they rounded the corner, briskly walking past Kyle and two of his friends that were staring him down once he was in their field of vision. “Well, someone needs to be,” he muttered. 

“You don’t think they’re gonna go after you or something, do you?”

He winced, pressing his lips into a line. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m sleeping with a bat under my pillow from now on.”

### 

José frowned, after poking Brock’s shoulder for the tenth time or so, he still wasn’t getting a reaction out of him. He was completely checked out, his physical body was there while nothing else was. “Come on, boo,” he took him by the shoulder and tried to shake the life back into him. “Why you all in your head like that?” 

Brock blinked rapidly and sat upright. “Hm?” He cleared his throat and chewed his lip. “Nothing, don’t want to worry you about it.”

“You too fuckin’ late on that, so you better just go on and come out with it,” he said simply, shifting so he was sitting cross-legged and facing him.

“Okay, fine,” Brock sighed, leaning back until he was resting against the next level of the bleachers. “I didn’t want to scare you, but I guess I dropped the ball on that. It’s just… obviously Kyle is pissed that you guys broke up, and I think he and his cronies have it out for me now. I know, I know, I must sound totally paranoid.”

He clicked his tongue and looked down, tracing patterns on the floor with his toe. “Nah, I get it,” but then he looked up and put his hand on Brock’s knee. “But you listen to me. I ain’t gonna let no one lay no damn hands on you again. ‘Sides, if any of them try shit they gon’ be blacklisted from getting _any_ cheerleader pussy, and none of them wanna risk that shit.”  
That elicited a snort from him, causing him to hide his grin behind his hand. “You make a compelling argument,” he propped his elbow on his other knee and rested his chin on his hand. 

José moved his hand from his knee to his lower back. “This why you were so afraid to touch me this morning?”

Brock’s body stiffened at the question. He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out slowly, eyes flicking from the ceiling to the ground and back. In a detached voice he answered “Yes.”

He had nothing to go off of but his word, so he nodded, rubbing small circles into his lower back. “Do you remember when we was kids and you’d jump in and help me fight off bullies no matter how many times your mama told you not to? That’s the type of you that you need to be, you just seem so damn worried all the time, always watching over your shoulder. My mama says that’s how you get ulcers and shit.”

It was unnerving to Brock that even after all this time, José figured him out so effortlessly. It was like suddenly being naked - exposed and vulnerable with no way to cover it up. On one hand, it shook him to his very core and made him want to curl deeper into himself and hide away, but on the other, he knew it was something he needed, something that made him feel alive in the most raw, unadulterated way. And maybe that was what pushed him to his feet just then. “Let’s go somewhere,” he said as he turned back to him. 

José’s brows knitted and his head tilted to the side, but he got up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Aight, lead the way,” and with a subtle spring in his step, he followed the taller teen outside of the gym and around back to the parking lot. “Do I get a hint or is this a surprise?” 

“Just consider the context clues,” Brock hummed as he strapped the seatbelt across his chest and backed out of the lot.

“Context clues,” he mimicked and rolled his eyes. “Man, you know I’m barely pulling a C- in English.”

Brock reached a hand over and patted his thigh reassuringly. “Just hang tight, babe.”

José conceded and sat quietly (which was a feat in and of itself) for the rest of the ride. Well, almost the rest of the ride, until he figured out where they were going and started bouncing in his seat and hitting Brock’s shoulder. “Aww, we’re going to the playground! You know I’m a sucker for sentimental shit.”

“I had a hunch,” he chuckled as he pulled into a parking spot. 

As they stepped out of the car, Brock was already hit with the first wave of nostalgia. The sound of the wind pushing empty swings, the wet, stale smell that lingered after the kids had left because the forecast called for rain. It took him right back to childhood and all the time he had spent there. All the time he had spent with José.

“You remember when we started going just on the cloudiest, almost rainy days ‘cause that’s when it was the emptiest? We thought we was so damn clever,” José recalled with a laugh as he looked up at the sky, covered with a thick gray sheet of clouds.

Brock chuckled as they walked down the path that took them towards the center of the playground. “And we only got stuck in heavy rain, what, four times? Five?” He looked over at the swingset. 

José turned to face it, smiling wanely. “That’s where it all began.”

“And ended.” 

They wordlessly made their way over and sat on the swings, both of them staring up at the sky, as if something would transcend from above and tell them what their next moves should be.

“Did you ever think about me?” Brock asked, looking ahead instead of up. “When we weren’t talking, you know, just in general…”

José smiled at the ground and clicked his tongue. “We spent four years together. You think Imma just forget you like that?”

Brock looked over at him with a fond expression. “It really was four years, that sounds so crazy when you think about it. That’s like…” he paused to count on his fingers. “It’s more than a fifth of our whole lives. I swear, literally half of my childhood memories involve you. Maybe more.”

“Probably ‘cause y’all let me tag along on your family vacations,” he chuckled, then went quiet. “Are we gonna keep not talking about how we feel now, though?” It felt odd to outright ask him how he felt about the kiss, considering it was entirely his move, but he needed to know where he stood.

His cheeks turned red and he swallowed thickly. “I mean… I’m very good at not talking about things, to be fair.”

“And I’m very good at running my mouth, so maybe we should meet somewhere in the middle.”

Brock got up and sat on the ground across from José. It was one of the rare times he was looking up at him. “So, what’s the middle?”

“Dunno yet. I’m not a planner,” José had started to swing in a playful way where he’d pretend to almost kick him. It was amusing until he swung his leg too far and almost got him for real, and in his scrambling to avoid that, he ended up launching himself off the swing and landing with a thud on top of Brock. 

The impact knocked them both down, leaving Brock flat on his back with José on top of him. It took them both a moment to recover before either of them could properly acknowledge the compromising position they had suddenly landed themselves in. 

Brock could feel his heartbeat jump into overdrive and his face felt so hot that José’s breath on his skin created a cooling sensation. He licked his lips, mouth feeling dry and words escaping him. At least, that was until he managed a soft “Hi.”

A broad, dimpled grin spread across José’s face. He leaned forward, resting their foreheads together and whispering “Hi” in response. 

It took another brief moment for Brock to decide his next move. He ended up wrapping his arms around the smaller teen’s body and let their legs intertwine. He tilted his head just enough for their lips to touch, capturing them in a slow, tender kiss. It felt different when he was initiating it; it sent sparks through his body, every inch of him telling his brain that this was what he wanted, what he needed.

And José needed it just as badly. He melted into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. One hand moved to cup his face, the other carding his fingers through his hair. It felt natural and familiar, even though the kisses they had shared as kids were innocent, close-mouthed pecks, often with their hands at their sides or in a loose hug. 

But this kiss was intimate. It was deep and languid and filled with the desire and longing that had carried over from their last kiss, from every touch and longing gaze they had shared in the interim. Their lips parted, tongues tangling and heads tilting, granting each other as much access as they could physically allow. 

Brock’s hand slipped under José’s shirt, his hand spreading across the smooth expanse of skin as he rubbed his back, holding him even closer as well. Nothing was enough, he had to have more after every touch and taste he got. 

“Mm…” A soft, pleased sigh escaped José’s mouth in the midst of the heated kisses. The hand he’d had on Brock’s face moved down his chest to fist into the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him even closer still. 

They had been so wrapped up in each other, so utterly lost in the moment, that the sudden, loud crack of thunder nearly scared them senseless. And on top of that, it was starting to rain. So, there went the moment. 

“Fuck, we better get out of here,” Brock grunted, reluctantly standing up and helping José to his feet as well. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at home,” he offered as they jogged back up the path and into the car, pulling back onto the road just as the rain started to pour down hard. 

When they arrived at the Cancel household, neither of them wanted José to leave just yet. They sat there in silence, hoping the right way to say goodbye would come to them. Brock made an attempt, shifting to face him. “If I, uh, don’t hear from you before then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Do you want to hear from me before then?”

He let out a soft laugh and strummed his fingers across the steering wheel. “I always want to hear from you.”

José leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Text me when you get home, then,” he told him before grabbing his bag and sprinting from the car to the house, lest he get completely soaked. 

Brock still sat for another moment, letting it all catch up with him. “Everything really does happen on that fucking playground,” he laughed to himself before driving home.

### 

Part of Brock hadn’t even wanted to divulge the details of the playground rendezvous with his well-meaning but overly-invested friends. But, at the same time, it probably wouldn’t have happened without them. So, he sat with them both on his bedroom floor, ready to recount the events. 

“Look at that shit-eating grin,” Steve teased. “Alright, spill.” 

Brock bit his lip and looked down at his lap. “We went to the playground. You know, the one a couple blocks over. And we were just talking, reminiscing… then one thing led to another and we were making out right there by the swings,” he blushed just from recounting the experience. “Then it started to rain and we had to make a run for it.” 

“How anticlimactic,” Courtney pouted, then laughed. “Nah, I’m happy for you, you really almost got some. What do you think would’ve happened if it didn’t rain?”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it - it was actually one of the only things he could think about. But he didn’t know, in actuality, how it would’ve played out. “I mean, I don’t think we were going to fuck in a playground. Pretty sure that’s illegal anyway.”

“Does he know you’re a virgin?”

The question stopped him dead in his tracks, freezing him in place. The redness in his face spread and deepened and he felt a knot tighten in the pit of his stomach. “No…” he mumbled. 

“Are you going to _tell_ him you’re a virgin?”

Brock still couldn’t look either of his friends in the eye. He pulled his knees up under his chin and looked down at his feet. He pressed his lips into a fine line, then exhaled deeply. “I don’t know.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay, bitch, I wanna hear all the dirty details,” Silky prompted, looking at his friend, ready to listen.

José laughed and shook his head. “Calm yo thirsty ass down, this shit stayed PG-13,” he told him. “But it was good, though. Never thought I could get so hot and bothered by some making out, you know?” 

He looked at him, perplexed and amused. “So you got me over here sounding all worked up just to tell me y’all just made out on that playground? Fuck, I was expecting to hear about all the new uses you got outta those kiddie swings.”

“You’re fucking nasty.” He threw his head back and cackled. Though he had to admit, he wouldn’t have been opposed to that, should it have gotten that far. And he had to wonder if Brock would’ve been down for the same, or at least something similar in a safer location.

It was really only hitting him then just how strong his attraction to Brock was. Sure, he knew he was hot, that there had been sparks going off between them. He certainly knew how much he liked kissing him. But now he realized that, on top of whatever his romantic feelings were, he was lusting after him as well. As far as he was concerned, it only stood to further complicate the situation. Unless, of course, they ended up on the same page. 

“So, you gonna call him back around to finish what y’all started?”

“Well…” José hesitated, “I don’t wanna give him the wrong idea or nothing. Like, I don’t want him to think I only wanna fuck. ‘Cause it’s deeper than that. But I don’t wanna come on too strong that way either. You know what I mean?”

Silky stared at him blankly. “Absolutely not, and you sound fully insane.” 

“What do _you_ suggest then?”

His friend grabbed him with one hand on either side of his head. “Talk to him, dumbass. Tell him you’re down to fuck but don’t want to _just_ fuck, or however you wanna get the job done. Just trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

José rolled his eyes. “Then why you still single?” 

“Hey! I’m not the one who can’t admit he’s been in love with the same guy for eight years. It don’t take a relationship expert to know you got a lot of baggage to unpack there,” he pointed out. 

It did give him pause, making him look down and away as he mulled his friend’s thoughts over. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“No, but you sure as hell making it into one.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes tight, as if that would help him think. Everything he felt was real and sincere, to him it made sense that it was this all-encompassing dilemma. But maybe Silky was right, maybe his dramatic, overthinking tendencies led him to make his feelings even messier than they already were.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” José nodded. “Just gotta work through this shit.”

### 

During the next cheer practice, Brock had finally plucked up enough courage to go up to José, after spending the majority of the past two days avoiding him. “Hey, um, you have a minute?”

“I got all the minutes for you,” he hummed, and they had just turned to scope out a private spot to talk in before they were interrupted. 

It was one of the new freshmen members, one of the only other boys. He had warm brown eyes and a cheerful disposition that seemed to radiate positive energy. Maybe that was why neither José nor Brock were especially bothered by the interruption. They might’ve even been a little relieved. 

José offered a kind smile. “What’s up? It’s Charlie, right?”

Charlie nodded. “I’m not bothering you guys, am I? I just have this kind of stupid question that I thought maybe you could help me with.” He waited until they nodded for him to go ahead. “How do you know if a guy is gay?”

Brock and José looked at each other, and it clicked right away that they had the same idea. “Who’s the guy in question?” the blonde asked, leading the two shorter boys to sit on the bleachers that overlooked the rest of the outdoor grounds.

The younger cheerleader looked down at the ground, a smile spread across his face and his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted pink. “It’s this French exchange student--”

“Gay.”

“José, no, let him finish.”

“That’s the thing!” he continued. “I can’t tell if he’s actually flirting with me or if it’s just that sexy European vibe.”

Both of them nodded as they listened intently. “I take it just asking him is out of the question?” Brock asked, ignoring the irony in the suggestion. 

“I mean, yeah, basically.” Charlie nodded. “I can’t just be like ‘oh, by the way, are you as gay as I hope you are?’ That’d be weird.” 

“And what do he be doing that you think may or may not be flirting?” José asked.

He smiled, rosiness blooming across his cheeks. “He sits extra close to me at lunch, he’s always complimenting me, and he’s very touchy-feely. Also, I _think_ I caught him checking me out in the locker room once.”

José and Brock looked at each other. “Gay,” they said in unison. 

“Not only that, he definitely is trying to let you know he’s interested,” Brock added. “That’s like, flirting 101, right?” He looked towards José, his arm around his waist and aimlessly stroking his side. 

He nodded, looking up at him with a grin. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He then redirected his gaze to Charlie. “So, whatcha gonna do?” 

Charlie shifted awkwardly as he weighed out his options. “I mean, you make a compelling case,” he admitted. He looked out across the field and, as luck would have it, his eyes met the ones of the object of his affection. “I’m gonna go for it,” he decided, pushing himself to his feet. “Thanks! I knew I came to the right couple,” he waved them off before jogging down the field.

The two of them looked from him to each other. “We should go watch,” Brock decided quickly. “You know, make sure it goes well.” 

“Agreed,” José got up and motioned for him to follow, so they could try to follow along as inconspicuously as possible. 

“Hey, Karl, hi.” Charlie came up beside him walking along the track. 

Karl looked at him with a bright smile. “Hey. Did you just exercise? You’re all red.” 

Of course, being called out on it prevented the redness in his face from dissipating. “Oh, uh, yeah. Just finished practice.”

“Right, right. You know, you have yet to invite me to watch you do cheerleading,” he mused, bumping their shoulders together lightly. 

Charlie tilted his head, perplexed. “It’s not invitational, you can just--” _Oh_. Now he got it. Maybe he had actually just been too oblivious thus far. “Well, I’d love for you to come to the game on Friday. Then uh… Maybe we could go out afterwards, get something to eat?” 

“Like a date, yes?”

He could feel his face burn up again. “Yeah, like a date! I-If you want it to be, I mean.” 

Karl chuckled softly. “Of course I do.” He hummed, then kissed his cheek. “Until Friday, _mon chou_.” Just as he started to leave, he tilted his head and scrunched his nose. “Who are your friends?”

“Oh shit,” José whispered, making a run for it with Brock, leaving Charlie standing confused. 

“Um… I wouldn’t worry about them.” He waved it off quickly. 

Meanwhile, Brock and José ran all the way to the parking lot, stopping only when they reached José’s car. “Okay, we’re good. Might’ve been a bit excessive, but I can live with that.”

“I hope those two work out,” José mused with a grin. “We’re still gonna spy on them at the game, right?” 

“Oh, absolutely. I’m invested in this now.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “What do you think he meant by ‘couple’?”

José tilted his head. “That there was two of us.”

“Right, of course.” He nodded, even though neither of them believed it. In the back of his mind he remembered what he’d initially wanted to talk about before the interruption, but it felt weird to bring up now. 

Either for better or worse, José didn’t share the same sentiments. “Anyways, what did you wanna talk to me about before?”

Brock was quiet for a moment as he considered backing out completely. He knew delaying the inevitable could only work for so long, but that didn’t make it any less daunting. “We should talk about what happened at the playground,” he said in one breath. 

José pushed himself up to sit on the hood of his car. “I know,” he looked down, swinging his legs. He’d hoped by now that he would know what to say, it wasn’t like he didn’t know this conversation would happen eventually. Maybe he would’ve felt more comfortable if he initiated it, but it didn’t matter now. “Shit, why’s this so fucking hard?” 

He sighed and leaned against the trunk, his elbows resting on the hood of it. “It shouldn’t be, right? We were always able to talk to each other about anything, no matter what.”

“We weren’t making out like that when we was ten.” 

The first kiss they shared was the height of their intimacy. Other than that, they’d just hold hands, hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek or the occasional peck on the lips. They were kids, nothing beyond that even occurred to them at the time. Even when they’d learned about other forms of physical intimacy, it never crossed their minds to incorporate it between the two of them. 

And Brock’s limited experience with sexual encounters was undoubtedly part of what brought these nerves to the forefront of his mind. In the time since their split, the other teen had all of the experiences he’d missed out on. It left him with a sinking feeling of inadequacy whenever he thought about consummating their relationship - whatever that relationship was. 

“I know,” he replied with an awkward laugh that sounded more like a cough. “I think… I think we knew what we wanted when we were kids. All we cared about was just being together.” 

José looked up at the sky, smiling faintly. “We didn’t realize how good we had it,” he mused, then shivered slightly as the cool autumn breeze hit him. 

“Here.” Brock tugged off his hoodie and handed it to him. 

He took the bright red sweatshirt and pulled it on. It was easily two sizes too big, but it was soft and warm. Most importantly, perhaps, it smelled like Brock, the same scent that lingered on his pillow and hit him whenever they were close enough together. “Thanks.” He grinned as he pulled the hood up over his head. 

There were a few passing moments of silence. The awkwardness of the uncertainty of their relationship was balanced by the comfort they took in each other’s presence. 

“If it didn’t rain on the playground, what would you have wanted to happen?” José finally asked. 

Brock inhaled sharply, pressing his lips into a fine line. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m pretty sure any serious below the waist stuff would put us on a sex offender list.” 

“Okay but like… in a world where there aren’t any con-consa-conc…” He snapped his fingers. “What’s the word?”

“Consequences?” 

“Yeah, those. If we knew we weren’t gonna get in no trouble.” 

He had used the time José spent searching his words to formulate an answer. “I think it’d just be up to how we felt in the moment.” 

And José wasn’t naive, he knew that was a cop-out, but he couldn’t fault him for it. Part of what had made that encounter so thrilling was the complete spontaneity of it. Hell, he was doubting his own ability to outright confess his feelings, and that was saying a lot considering how he prided himself on his blunt honesty. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” 

Brock’s entire body visibly relaxed, he felt like a cinder block had just been lifted from his chest. “Look, I’m obviously attracted to you…”

“But?” 

“But…” He hesitated. He wanted to be honest, but telling himself that being a virgin wasn’t objectively a big deal over and over just didn’t seem to be enough. “But nothing. That’s it.”

José’s brows knitted towards the center of his forehead. Once again, he found himself torn between pushing himself to drag out the real answer or let things be to not make it worse. Brock was the only person he’d ever even had this internal conflict about; it wasn’t in his nature to fret about keeping the peace. “You sure?” he asked quietly, looking down. 

_No. Not even a little_. He laid back against the back window of the car, his hands behind his head. “As sure as I can be.”

“I’ll take it.” He laid back against the car as well, gaze drifting up to the clouds. “Whatcha doing after this?” 

“Dance rehearsal. I have a competition just before Thanksgiving break. And I’ve been kind of neglecting it.” 

He frowned, rolling onto his side - narrowly avoiding accidentally slipping off of the trunk. “Hey, you better not be sacrificing yourself just to help me. This shit is your future.”

Brock winced. He knew he’d been putting this endeavor in front of his own. But he couldn’t stop himself from dropping everything for José at the drop of a dime. “I’m not, this is just… Not easier, but definitely more fun. You always make things more fun.”

“Can I come with you to your practice then?”

“Yeah, I don’t think my coach will mind.” He hopped down from the car, glancing at the time on his phone. “We may as well head over now. I can give you the directions.”

It was a good thing they left when they did, because while José could take direction to a T when it came to choreography, taking driving directions were nothing short of a nightmare. 

Despite the bickering and wrong turns, they made it to the studio in time, with most of their sanity intact. Though they did use the walk from the parking lot to the changing room to cool down. 

“Damn, this makes the locker room look like a fuckin’ swamp,” José chuckled, leaning against the row of lockers. 

“It’s not?” Brock asked with a laugh as he undid the buttons of his shirt and let it fall off his shoulders. “Let’s just say if I had gym before lunch, I’d never be able to eat,” he added as he took his jeans off as well. 

José felt his breath hitch in his throat. He knew Brock was still talking, but he didn’t catch a single word. His attention was fixed on appreciating the view. 

Brock had a naturally tall, lean frame, but consistent training and competing kept him in good shape. His torso was toned with a layer of muscles that was just visible enough. His arms and legs were toned and defined. 

The smaller teen could see every which way his body flexed with each move as he changed into a t-shirt and leggings. He bit down on his lip and he could feel his heartbeat speed up. It wasn’t like he’d never seen a hot, half-naked guy before, but it was the way he was so casual about it, it made everything feel more intimate. 

“You okay?” 

“Hm?” He blinked back into reality. “I’m good, yeah. Let’s go.”

They walked into a large, open studio. It was clean, with a wide window that allowed natural light to spread throughout the room, lessening the need for harsh fluorescents. 

“Who’s your friend?” a woman asked. She was tall; she had a couple inches on José, but wasn’t quite the same height as Brock. Her body was a clear reflection of her dedication to fitness, a six pack of abs on display between a sports bra and yoga pants. 

But her strong, perhaps intimidating stature was balanced by kind eyes and a warm smile, as well as an almost babydoll-esque voice when she spoke. Overall, her presence was calm and friendly. 

“Anna, this is my good friend, José,” Brock introduced. 

She looked him over, then back at her student with a smirk. “Yeah? How good, huh?” 

“None of your business.” He laughed, but his red cheeks answered the question for him. “Anyway, do you mind if he hangs out? Just for some extra moral support.” 

“Knock yourselves out.” Anna shrugged as she pulled her long mane of black hair into a ponytail. 

And with José cheering him on from the sidelines, Brock did find himself enjoying his practice, feeling more relaxed and comfortable. It was just like when they were kids, when they were each other’s biggest supporters no matter what. 

“And I think that wraps it up,” Anna said once they’d finished their cool-down exercises. “How’re you feeling about it? Ready to take the gold?” 

“I think so, yeah.” Brock smiled as he caught his breath. 

“That’s what I like to hear! See you next time. Nice meeting you, José.”

When the two of them were alone, José ran up to Brock’s side. “You fuckin’ killed that shit, B!” 

He smiled and looped his arms around his waist. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

He locked his arms around his neck, leaning close enough for their foreheads to rest together, not caring that the dancer was still hot and sweaty from the intense routine. “I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.” 

Brock leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft, lips brushing against his when he spoke. “I’m sure you will,” but as quickly as he’d pulled him in, he let go. “I gotta get changed and shower off,” he said and led him back into the locker room. 

When he stepped into the shower, he kept the water lukewarm. It felt soothing against his still heated skin and he let out a soft sigh of relief. 

José sat down on the bench, looking towards the shower and wondering if he should just go for it. It was both tempting and time sensitive, and he slowly got up, still going back and forth in his mind. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered as he stripped down. He took a deep breath, then stepped into the occupied stall. “Up for some company?”

“From you? Always.” He looked him over, lust flickering in his eyes. All of his worries and fears seemed to fall from the wayside as he was taken over by a wave of desire, cupping his face and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

José melted right into the kiss, his arms wrapped around his waist and he stepped closer, until there was no more space between them. He moved his hands up his back, feeling every dip and groove in his toned form. With their bodies so close, he could feel _every_ inch of him and it only riled him up even more. 

It was the most intimate Brock had ever been with anyone, and it was enough to get him half hard, and he was too aroused to be embarrassed by how quickly it happened. His hips bucked up, and when he heard a gruff moan in response, he knew the feeling was mutual. 

Rocking against each other wasn’t enough after long, and José looked up at Brock, cocking his head as if to say ‘let’s do this’. 

‘This,’ however, was a little too ambiguous for Brock, so he decided to take what he believed to be the safest route. He kept one hand on the small of José’s back, the other moved forward and wrapped around the length of his cock. 

José mimed his actions, both of them working in tandem, grunting and moaning as they kept a steady pace. 

Even though they were alone, they tried to stay quiet, kissing heatedly and messily, only coming up for air when they had to, and reconnecting their lips to quiet themselves when their orgasms hit. 

They stood still, holding each other as they caught their breath, then cleaned up and got out, drying off and getting dressed in silence. 

The drive back was quiet as well. Neither of them knew what to say until they got to Brock’s house. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brock leaned in and they shared a quick kiss, and then he scurried off inside. 

José sat in his car in front of the house for a moment, letting everything sink in. He felt so good, so _free_ , but it still felt like something was missing.


	7. Chapter 7

“Then I’m like, fuck it, Imma get in the shower with him, ain’t like we was gonna get walked in on. So I go in, and we start making out, and I can feel his body all up on me, and we’re both gettin’ into it, and I’m thinking it’s about to go down, if you know what I mean.” José pouted as he lamented his tale. 

“And you know what happens? We fucking jerk each other off.” He huffed and clicked his tongue. “Like, it was good, I mean, I came, and he got a nice dick; we got the job done. But it could’ve been _good_ , like some hot porn-level shit.” he turned to face his friend. “Anyway, that’s it. What’s up with you?” 

Charlie blinked, then his eyes darted back and forth as he was stunned into an uncomfortable silence. Normally, the answer to ‘what’s up?’ was less… graphic. “What? Um… Not much, comparatively,” he replied, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I should… Get to class. I’ll see you at the game tonight,” he offered with a thumbs-up before turning on his heel and bolting down the hall. 

Brock walked up just as the underclassman was scurrying off, looking perplexed at the sight. “Is he okay?” he asked, propping his forearm against the lockers and resting the side of his head against it. 

“Must’ve been in a rush.” José shrugged, oblivious to the role he played in causing that response. 

“Fair enough. How are you though? You didn’t answer my texts.” 

José felt his throat tighten, and he bit down on his bottom lip. “Shit, sorry, I just been trying to finish this stupid chem project and I don’t know shit about chem, so I got distracted.”

It wasn’t the most believable excuse, but at the same time, Brock was relieved to know they both still had awkward, lingering feelings they weren’t ready to address. “It’s fine. I’m glad you got it done.” He cleared his throat, the tension between them becoming thick enough to suffocate. “You ready for the game tonight?” 

He allowed himself to look up and meet Brock’s eyes. “Yeah, kinda nervous. Last one before competition season.”

“We’ve got this, though,” Brock offered in a quiet, reassuring voice. “You’re the best cheer captain this school has ever seen.”

“You got nothing to compare it to.”

“Don’t need to.” He smiled, then gently cupped his face. “Your talent is incomparable, that’s the best part about it.”

José smiled. He didn’t know where Brock’s unwavering faith in him came from. It wasn’t exactly something he got much of from anyone else but his mother. And yet he found himself able to believe in his sincerity without question. “Then we’re just gonna have to crush it, right?” 

Brock nodded and kissed his forehead. “Right.”

### 

Courtney was standing with Brock, both of them watching from a safe distance while José spoke with the coach. “So, how’d the conversation about the handjobs go?” 

Brock glanced around quickly to make sure no one had overheard, and glared at her even though no one had. “It hasn’t happened yet.” 

“I just don’t get what you’re so afraid of. Him being turned off by you being a virgin? We are still in high school, you know. Like, if you were forty I’d get it, but Jesus, get a grip.” 

He sighed, hooking his fingers into the chain link fence and watching other cheerleaders milling into their section, including Charlie, who stopped to wave at him. “There’s hope for that one,” he remarked as he waved back, blatantly ignoring everything his friend said. 

Courtney shook her head, wondering why she bothered. “Maybe you should sort out your own gay soap opera before digging your nails into someone else’s.”

“But look at how cute they are!” Brock insisted. 

In his defense, the teens did look cute together, especially the dramatic contrast between the two of them. You had the high-energy cheerleader in the brightly colored uniform and sunny disposition, then you had the brooding-looking counterpart in a black sweatshirt and emo fringe. It was as if the sun and moon were personified as a couple of gay teenagers talking through a fence. 

Still, she was unaffected. That was until they kissed through the fence. “Okay, that was adorable,” she gave in, then glanced over to see José running towards them. “You two weirdos are on your own,” she said before going off to join the rest of the squad. 

José didn’t have a chance to acknowledge her presence - not that he had really planned on it, as his attention and enthusiasm was fully focused on Brock. “Did you see that cute shit? We made that happen!”

“We kind of did, didn’t we? I feel like a proud dad.” Brock grinned, watching the young couple already seem so smitten with each other. But his thoughts were interrupted by the shrill screech of the coach’s whistle. “Okay babe, knock ‘em dead,” he gave José a light tap on the rear and sent him on his way before taking a seat on the bleachers. 

It wasn’t long after he sat down that the space next to Brock became occupied. He glanced over and smiled softly. “Hey, you’re the guy Charlie is seeing, right? Karl?”

He nodded with a bright grin. “His boyfriend, yes.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you guys were official already.”

Karl shrugged. “Why not? We talked about how we felt and decided there was no point in waiting to be what we wanted to be, which was together. Romance is not as complicated as people think.”

It took Brock a minute to process what he was saying, and even longer to truly understand. “So you just… talked it out and came to that conclusion? It wasn’t weird or awkward or anything? You weren’t worried about one of you not feeling the same way?”

“A little bit, I suppose. But how else are we supposed to learn anything if we do not ask questions?” He looked at the older teen, perplexed. “You act like this is a new concept.” 

He looked down and shrugged. “It’s not that it’s new, it’s just that talking about things has never been a skill of mine. I’ve always found feelings only make it more complicated.”

“Guessing is more confusing if you ask me. It’s like when you’re learning a new language, you can’t be afraid to ask questions to learn what people really mean. Like when they say ‘you can say that again,’ they do not actually want you to say it again. They just agree with the thing that you said.” 

Brock looked from him back to the field, the game was going in full force, so the squad resigned themselves to the more sedentary cheers while still looking bright and perky. “I think you might be right.”

“Of course I am right, this is obvious statement.” Karl shrugged, then his expression softened. “But I do hope things work out between you two. Charlie speaks so highly of you both. He admires you guys.”

“Oh.” He smiled and looked down. “That’s sweet.” Then his brows knitted together. “Wait, how did you–”

“You are not as subtle as you think you are.” He patted his back lightly.

Brock nodded and stared back out ahead of him. “Yeah, I’m really beginning to realize that.”

The conversation faded out just as the main cheer routine started, both of them getting to their feet to shout encouragement at them. The routine had come together better than Brock had anticipated, though he made sure to take mental notes of anything they needed to go over before the actual competition. 

By the time the game ended, Brock had given up paying any sort of attention to the actual game, not that he’d put in a whole lot of effort in the first place. 

His eyes were on José from start to finish, much like with any other chance he got. He jogged down to the field to meet up with him. “That was great!” 

“But… We lost.” 

“Yeah, but you guys looked so good.” He hummed. “I’m feeling better about the qualifiers already.” 

José smiled, his body relaxing. “Thank fuck, that’s what I needed to hear.”

Brock gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Charlie and Karl talking animatedly, then walking off the field hand-in-hand. 

His stomach suddenly twisted in a knot, but it went away just as quickly, replaced with something that was close to confidence. “Do you wanna come back to my place after this? Order some pizza, watch a movie?”

In and of itself, it was such a benign suggestion, but it was enough to make José’s heart skip a beat. “Yeah.” He nodded with a warm smile that reached his eyes. “I like that. Lemme just grab my shit from the locker room, I’ll meet you by my car.”

Already Brock felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest after just that baby step, and he felt lighter on his feet as he made his way from the bleachers to the parking lot, hell, he could have skipped. But then, all he could do was wait leaning against José’s car. 

José returned in his street clothes not long after, his backpack draped over his shoulder and a snapback placed backwards on his head. “You ready to go?”

“Sure am.” He got in the passenger seat and waited for him. 

This drive was calm. José knew this path well; he could’ve gotten to Brock’s home with his eyes closed and once they were in his room, it felt as warm and familiar as it always did. 

“You can pick something out while I order.” Brock hummed, passing him the remote and getting his phone out, stepping to the other side of the room to make the call before sitting next to him on the bed. “So, what’re we watching?”

“Pretty Woman.” José answered, resting his head on Brock’s shoulder. “Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

“You’ve always had good taste,” Brock chuckled, lying down and taking the smaller teen with him to be the little spoon, holding him close. 

They ended up completely zoning out watching the movie, not even registering when Brock’s mom came in to set the pizza down - though the smell was eventually enough to distract them and they sat up to eat. 

But inevitably, the conversation Brock had with Karl re-registered in his mind. The kid made everything seem so simple and obvious, like what he should have been doing all along was right in front of his face. “We should talk,” he blurted out. 

José paused the movie and shifted to face him. “Okay… What’s up?” 

Brock took a deep breath and ignored the way his heart started slamming against his rib cage and how his throat tightened up. “I like you a lot, José. I mean, I guess that’s kind of obvious because, you know, we’ve been making out and fooling around. But it’s not just a physical thing. I love who you are, I love how you make me want to be a stronger, more confident person.” He couldn’t look him in the eyes as he finished, “I want to be with you.”

It took a lot to leave José speechless, to knock the wind out of him and leave him breathless without the slightest touch. He had never looked at another person and realized they had his entire heart. “Me too. I-I-I mean I want to be with you too. I feel the same and I don’t know why we been so weird about it, but I really like you too.”

Brock hid his head in his hands and laughed. He couldn’t believe it, it had really been that simple. “God, I’d wanted to say that for so long but didn’t know how. I feel so stupid.” 

“Well, you got any other confessions while we at it?” He joked.

A deafening silence followed. 

“Brock?”

“I’m a virgin.”

José started to snicker at what he assumed was a joke, then stopped mid-laugh. “Wait, that’s it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. The nonchalant reaction didn’t make him any less embarrassed. “That’s why I’ve been a little… frigid. I didn’t want to disappoint.”

“Disappoint?” He looked at him dumbfounded. “You were worried I’d think you were bad in bed? Like, compare you to Kyle or some shit?” 

“Not intentionally, but yeah, I was afraid I wouldn’t measure up.” 

“Oh, you do. Your dick is bigger.” 

Brock snorted, picking his head up and looking at him. “Not like that. Just, if he knew what he was doing and I didn’t… I just didn’t want to let you down.” 

“Man, I don’t care about that shit,” José assured in a voice that was jarring in how flippant it was, which perhaps couldn’t be too unexpected for him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely down to fuck, but I ain’t gonna judge you like it’s a dance competition.” His eyes widened, as if something suddenly clicked. “This is just how you is, isn’t it? You’re always in your head like life is a competition and you gotta win everything or you fail.” 

He watched him come to this realization in awe. “How’d you put all that together?” It wasn’t like he was wrong, but that didn’t mean he was ready to acknowledge it as true. 

“That’s just your personality. All type one.”

“Type A?” 

José rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

Brock winced. “Sorry, yeah. Maybe I am, a little. But that’s part of why I like having you around. You’re unpredictable and energetic but you never get high strung.”

“No, I do get high, just don’t tell my mama.”

“High strung.” He chuckled. “Like tense and overwhelmed, what you’re saying I am, you know?” Then he got an idea. “Do you have any?”

“Any what?”

There was some uncomfortable shifting on Brock’s end. “Any… weed? If it helps you relax so much…” 

“Your mom won’t get mad?” José asked cautiously as he got up and got his duffel bag. 

Brock shook his head. “I think it’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” He opened a window and grabbed a joint and lighter from his bag. “Come, where the air is.”

He shuffled after him, letting José light it and take the first hit. “Just inhale?” And he did when instructed, coughing a bit, but otherwise adjusting relatively quickly. 

José grinned softly as he watched him. “You catch on quick,” he observed before taking a drag. 

“When I wanna be,” Brock chuckled. “How long does it usually take before you start feeling it? Because I already feel it.”

“You’re supposed to,” he assured, giggling softly. “This shit hits you good and fast.”

And within minutes of finishing the joint, the pair of them were laying on the floor together, laughing at nothing while everything around them faded in and out of focus. 

Brock rolled onto his side, gazing at José and playing with his hair. “You’re so cute.” He giggled brightly, tracing a finger down his face. “I love your eyes and your dimples and your smile,” he listed, peppering kisses over his face as he spoke. 

“You’re fun high, I like this.” José beamed, soaking up the attention. This was everything he could have wanted, blissfully high and being showered with affection from the one person he craved it from the most. “I gotta light you up more often.”

“I love hearing you talk,” he hummed, though he didn’t process a single thing he said. José had a notoriously distinct voice, one that many people were put off by, but not him. He loved it because it was uniquely identifiable, he could hear that voice a hundred feet away in a crowd and know right where to run to. That loud, raspy voice was like home to him. 

“You are definitely the first person to ever say that. You must be really fucking high.” He cackled. 

Brock shrugged, kissing down along his jaw and neck. “Maybe,” he mused, laughing softly against his skin, his fingers running up and down José’s torso, grazing under the fabric of his shirt. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” 

“You smell nice,” José made an out-of-the-blue observation. “I always like the way you smell. It’s like warm and clean and kinda manly and sexy.” He looked at him, little giggles still slipping out. “You wanna know a secret? I put your hoodie on my pillow. It still smells like you.” 

He looked up at him and grinned, shifting back up and kissing him sweetly. “That’s so cute, oh my god.” He hugged him tightly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Even through the haze of the euphoric high, that caused José to stop in his tracks, to freeze in place. He was smiling broadly now, a deep one without all of the laughter that had surrounded him before. “You really mean that?” 

Brock nodded cheerily, too far from his normal mental state to understand the weight of his confession. “Of course I do. ‘Cause it’s true.” 

“Well. I’m glad you feel that way. That’s how I feel about you,” he finally managed to say once the initial shock wore off. “How you feeling now, by the way?”

“Sleepy,” he said, having needed to take a moment to think about it. 

José nodded “Let’s get yo ass to– oh, shit, too late,” he chuckled when he realized that Brock had fallen asleep on the floor. And he found himself locked in his arms and without the energy to fight his way out. “Guess we sleeping here tonight,” he murmured as his eyes closed. 

But he couldn’t have cared less that they were sleeping on the floor. They were together, they had each other with nothing to hide. This was the start of a new chapter in their lives, finally one they could write together.


	8. Chapter 8

José was never able to sleep the night before a competition, but for some reason, it felt worse tonight. It felt like there was more on the line— not only did he feel the need to live up to the expectations of the coach and everyone on his team, he wanted to be as good as Brock seemed to think he was. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how important Brock’s opinion was to him. Next to his mother, no one else ever seemed to believe in him so unabashedly, and he didn’t have the ‘parental obligation’ that he associated with his mom. Brock believed in him because he wanted to. 

And maybe that should have put him at ease; it should be something to take comfort in. Instead it just made him feel like he had more to prove, that he had to prove he was worthy of Brock’s praise. 

Either way, it was almost four in the morning and José was as awake as ever, and he knew he would regret it in the morning if he didn’t at least keep trying to get some sleep. 

But it became clear that just wasn’t happening, so he texted Brock to see if he was awake. 

‘You can’t sleep either?’ Brock sent in response. 

‘Nope :(‘ 

‘Wanna call me?’ 

José grinned, sitting up in bed. ‘Yeah, one sec,’ he sent before calling him. “What’s got you up, boo?” 

“I’m just nervous about tomorrow,” Brock admitted with a sigh. “Everything went well at the game, but it’s gonna be a whole other setting and it’s really gonna be a testament to whether or not I can choreograph or if I ruined everything for everyone.” 

That definitely didn’t make José feel any less anxious – if anything, the knot in his stomach tightened. “If it helps, it’s not all on you. We did this together. We either succeed or we flop, but it ain’t all on your head. Or mine.” The last part was a reminder for himself, but it didn’t digress from the point. 

“I don’t wanna screw anything up for you, though.” 

José didn’t mean to laugh, quickly trying to stop himself. “You think _you’re_ gonna screw something up for _me_? Boy, you must be really up in your head.” 

“You say that like it’s a new development,” Brock retorted dryly. “I can’t help it, I just want everything as close to perfect as physically possible.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” José chuckled. “If you keep tryna be perfect you just gonna create impossible standards. You’re already the best dancer I know; if anything I should be lecturing you about being too arrogant, but you ain’t even cocky.”

Brock sighed with a light laugh. “I think if I started getting cocky I’d just end up apologizing for it,” he chuckled softly, then yawned.

José caught the yawn, rubbing his eyes. “I think we tired each other out,” he mused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

As late as it was, they did finally manage to sleep through the night, hoping it’d be enough to get through the next day.

### 

Brock had been walking around the building the competition was in, as he’d ended up getting there before the team. But apparently, he had been wandering around too long, because all of a sudden, he looked up and saw Courtney barreling towards him. 

“There you are! We started to think you got lost.” She took his hand, guiding him to the waiting area where the team was getting ready. 

“Sorry.” He offered a half-hearted apology, now distracted by examining the group and, more specifically, looking for José to see how he was holding up. 

José didn’t even notice when Brock arrived, deeply invested in the task at hand. He was standing by the freshmen on the team, fixing their hair and makeup, going over the steps. One girl seemed to look anxious, so he pulled her aside to give her a pep talk that lifted her spirits. 

“He’s a real den mother, isn’t he?” Courtney remarked to Brock, who was leaning against the wall and watching him with the fondest of smiles. 

“Makes a great team captain,” he agreed. 

It was mutually beneficial as well — when José was focusing his attention on keeping the younger teens motivated and in good spirits, he had a solid distraction from his own nerves. If he kept preaching these words of affirmation, maybe he would start believing them himself. 

Once the group had dispersed, Brock made his way over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and giving him a light squeeze. “Holding up okay?”

“Trying to,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, gaze shifting from the taller teen to the younger group. “It’s the first big competition for most of them, can’t let ‘em see you sweat, you know? They’re all looking to me to have shit together.” His voice was strained, without the distraction, he was back to being consumed with anxiety.

And Brock picked up on it, squeezing his shoulders and staring at him until José gave in and made eye contact. “Listen to me, we’re here because you’re an amazing captain. They look up to you because you’ve been an incredible role model this whole time. I don’t just believe in you because I like you, I believe in you because you’re one of the most talented, hard-working people I’ve ever met.” 

Despite his stubborn efforts, José relaxed at his words. He realized he’d needed a pep talk just as much as his younger teammates. “Thanks.” He looked up at Brock, giving up any attempt at hiding the smile that fought its way to his lips. “Couldn’t have done it without you, though.”

“I’m glad I could help, but you guys are gonna be the ones tearing it up, and I’ll be cheering for you the whole time,” he promised. 

Shortly after that, the squad was given a ten-minute warning, and Brock made his way out to the bleachers. He was sitting for about a moment before he looked up to see a familiar face joining him. “You again?” he joked. 

“Yes, I’ve been stalking you this whole time.” Karl chuckled. “I’ve never seen a cheer competition before, do they all just perform their routines and that is it?” 

“Neither have I, now that I think of it,” he shrugged. “But yeah, I can safely assume that’s the gist of it.” 

Karl furrowed his brows. “You haven’t? Has José not been competing?”

Brock shook his head. “No, no, he has. But we… went a few years without talking, only picked back up recently.” 

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?” 

He couldn’t tell if the question came from disbelief or genuine confusion, pressing his lips together and looking out ahead of him. “José and I have a unique history. Guess at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter, mostly just happy with the page we’re on now.”

“Mostly?” 

Brock pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if being this nosy was a French trait, or something specific to this teen. “Everything is a work in progress, but things are going in the right direction,” he concluded. “How are you and Charlie?” 

The expression that overtook Karl wasn’t unfamiliar to Brock — giddy, warm, rosy cheeks with an offset gaze—it was the same lovesickness that had plagued him since childhood. Only this time, he wasn’t looking in a mirror, and it brought a sense of relief to him, that he wasn’t alone in the smitten boat, so to speak. “Things are good,” he answered. “Very good.” 

“I can tell. You two are good for each other,” he mused. “Don’t let anything get in the way of that.” 

Karl nodded, then both of them shifted focus to the floor as their school’s team entered. The music began to play and the routine began, both of their eyes trained on every moment. 

When it ended, Brock realized he had been holding his breath the whole routine. He stood up and cheered as the air returned to his lungs, filled to the brim with pride and admiration - it couldn’t have gone better if he tried, and a weight lifted off his chest. 

But the nerves came back with a vengeance when it came time to announce the winners. Third place was announced, and after second, Brock was starting to get nervous. He was on the edge of his seat when the first place was announced. 

“Holy shit, we won.” Brock didn’t register the cheering or Karl shaking him. He was stunned. That really happened. All of their hard work actually paid off in a tangible manner. It wasn’t until the noise had died down that he came back to earth. As soon as the team exited, he got up and ran to meet them on the other side.

The second José spotted Brock, he sprinted towards him. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed him by the face and kissed him hard, not letting go until his lungs gave him no other choice. 

Brock wrapped his arms around José’s waist, picking him up and spinning him around. “That was amazing!” He kissed his cheek before setting him down. “I am so proud of you.”

“We did it!” José beamed when his words were no longer escaping him. His face was red and his eyes were wide, sparkling with enthusiasm and pairing perfectly with a smile that could outshine the sun itself. “We really fuckin’ did it.” 

They did have to break apart when the rest of the team crowded around in collective celebration. Parents were running in to congratulate their children, people started to scatter as they posed for pictures with their medals. 

José was the first to notice his and Brock’s mothers walking towards them. He chuckled softly, the two women were chatting animatedly, as if no time at all had passed since the last time they were in a room together. He admired the effortlessness in their camaraderie, it led him to believe that things could actually be normal between himself and Brock. “Aw look, they getting along.” 

Brock chuckled. “What, did you think it was gonna be like the Capulets and Montagues?” He received a blank stare in response. “ _Romeo and Juliet_?”

“Oh yeah, with Leonardo DiCaprio.” He nodded confidently, and they were embraced by their moms before Brock could offer a response.

### 

It was getting late; the cheerleaders were starting to taper off after the celebration dinner. Everyone was a bit tired, but spirits were high and bright. 

“Do you wanna come over? Maybe spend the night?” José asked with his mouth half full, washing the bite down with a swig of water. He and Brock hadn’t left each other’s sides since the win, they’d even been squished together in the restaurant booth until people started to leave. 

Brock grinned, setting his napkin down on the empty plate. “Sure, if your mom doesn’t mind.”

“Naw, you were always her favorite anyway.” He chuckled, waiting for him to slide out of the booth so he could follow suit, and they walked out to his car with linked arms. 

The drive back was quiet – Brock seemed lost in thought and José chose to focus on the road than press him about it. They’d had a long day, after all, he was sure if it was worth bringing up, it’d come out eventually. 

Once they were finally in José’s bedroom, they were as relaxed as ever, watching _Real Housewives_ reruns and getting just high enough to not know what city they were in. They had their own running commentary going, one that started as jokes and devolved into just mimicking what the women said in nasally, valley girl voices. 

But after a while, the TV faded into the background, and they became more invested in their cuddling. And then cuddling turned to kissing, which led to groping. 

“I think we should have sex,” Brock said suddenly. 

José blinked in surprise, taking a moment to make sure he’d actually heard him correctly and he wasn’t so high that he had started to hear things (which would’ve been improbable with the meager amount of weed they smoked, but he could never be too sure). “Are you sure?” 

Brock just nodded simply. “Uh-huh. I mean, I’ve been wanting to for a while now, but I, you know, overthought it every time and chickened out,” he explained, for once not feeling like he was struggling to stay calm. 

He let out a laugh because yes, that was very on-brand for Brock and knew for sure that he was being sincere. “Well, if we’re being real right now, I have been wanting you to fuck me since the rain cockblocked us at the park.” 

It brought him a relief to know that these feelings had been mutual for a while now, though it made him feel ridiculous that he’d been so adamant about holding out and hiding away. They could’ve crossed this path weeks ago, but he quickly concluded it was better late than never. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, pulling José into a kiss before he could answer. 

Not that there was anything José felt like he needed to add. He kissed back with all the eagerness that had been building up over what felt like ages now. He was gripping onto Brock by his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it off and toss it aside, his own following immediately after. 

Brock was amused at the speed and dexterity the brunette expressed when he wanted something done, and he decided that all he needed to do was keep up with him. So, he scrambled to get out of his jeans, to get them both undressed as fast as the delayed connection between his brain and his hands allowed. 

“Tell me if you wanna slow down or stop or anything.” The difference in their speeds had become apparent enough to José. Even without a request, he quelled his pace so they were at a similar rhythm, one that soon felt effortless to both of them. He waited for a beat, then reached into his drawer and handed him a bottle of lube. 

“We don’t need a condom?” Brock asked, examining the bottle and figuring out what he needed to do next. 

José shrugged. “Nah, you a virgin, and I tested clean. Might as well make your first time even better, you know?” He had always used protection with Kyle, insisting it was for safety. Despite being technically true, in the back of his mind, he knew it was because he never completely trusted that he was his only partner. Perhaps in another place and time, it would’ve bothered him, but he didn’t care anymore, and it was a freeing revelation. 

Brock, on the other hand, accepted the explanation at face value. “That works for me.” He hummed, waiting for José to lay back. “You, um, need to prep first, right? Or am I supposed to do it?” 

“You getting nervous already. Lemme do it,” he decided, taking the bottle back from him. “Pay attention, so you know what to do next time.” 

He smiled, the idea that ‘next time’ was a given settled well with him, it made him feel warmth swell in his chest. “Should I take notes?” he joked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. But as he immediately realized, notes would not be necessary. Watching José surpassed any porn he’d ever watched. It had him hypnotized and practically drooling, he was absentmindedly jerking off to the sight that he couldn’t look away from if he tried. 

And José absolutely adored the attention and tried to put on a show without being too loud. He worked himself just to the point of readiness, easing his fingers out and looking up at Brock. “You ready, big guy?”

“You fucking bet I am,” Brock chuckled softly. He took the bottle and used the lube to slick up his length, then very carefully guided himself into him, grunting softly as he did. It took him a moment to adjust, the feeling so new and overwhelmingly pleasurable. 

José waited patiently for Brock to get comfortable. He already felt so good just having him buried inside him, just holding him close, one hand on his back and the other tangled in his hair. And when Brock started thrusting, he yielded to his movements right away. 

Brock’s moans went from cursing and words of praise to unintelligible nonsense faster than he could’ve anticipated. His thrusts were a bit unsteady but deep and fervent. His hands were at either side of José, balancing himself until he moved one to grab his waist, giving him a better angle to continue. 

Time faded out of relevance as the thrusts became more desperate and erratic, the two of them clinging to each other for dear life. It could’ve been anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours – they didn’t know, nor did they care. By the time they were both spent, they were lost in their own little world. Nothing else mattered, they could bask at this moment forever. 

“So was it good for you?” José asked when he finally caught his breath and the room stopped spinning so much. 

Brock snorted, covering his mouth. “Yes. It was very, very good,” he replied, wrapping his other arm around the smaller male and holding him close. “It was good for you too, right?” 

“Of course it was.” He huffed as if it should’ve been obvious. 

“Just checking,” he cooed and kissed his forehead, then yawned as he closed his eyes. “At least tonight we’re gonna sleep really well.” 

José buried his face into Brock’s chest, mumbling a sleepy “Uh-huh.”

Brock exhaled deeply, holding him close, then gently whispering, “I love you.” 

He got a loud snore in response and he laughed to himself. Maybe it was for the best, he thought as he started to drift off. The right time would come eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Nine Years Ago_ ******

José was the type of kid that looked forward to recess more than any part of the day. He needed that time to run around and be loud, burn off some of that energy so he could at least try to sit still during the rest of the school day. His ADHD and general personality already made that an uphill battle for any teacher.

But after a good few minutes of running around on the playground, he found himself bored. Or at least, bored enough to notice a kid sitting by himself with his face buried in his notebook. Occasionally he would look up and around, like he was contemplating getting up and playing, but would end up only curling further into himself.

It took a split second, but José recognized him as the new kid. He was introduced to the class that morning but, even with the teachers’ encouragement, he didn’t have a whole lot to say. José was pretty sure half of the class would need to be reminded of his name before the day ended, and that just didn’t sit right with him.

Because on the other hand, José did not have a problem talking or remembering faces. No, he had an endless capacity to talk to and meet new people, so he sat right next to the shy blonde boy. “Hi! You’re Brock, right?”

Brock looked up, closing his notebook and setting it aside. There was a split second of hesitation before he answered him. “Um… yeah, hi,” he replied, shifting his legs so he was sitting with them crossed instead. “What’s your name?”

“José. Whatcha doin’ sitting by yourself?” He frowned, tilting his head. “Recess is for playing, you look like you was doing homework,” he observed, cocking his head the other way, towards the notebook at Brock’s feet.

“It’s not homework.” He shook his head, then thought for a beat. “Actually… I guess it is kind of like homework. But it’s not for school, it’s for my ballet class.”

José perked his head up with curious interest. “You do ballet? That’s so cool!”

Brock blinked in surprise. “You think it’s cool? Most people think it’s dumb, that boys aren’t supposed to take ballet,” he explained.

“Well, they’re wrong then. I think it’s cool. You should teach me something from your class sometime.”

“Yeah!” Brock beamed brightly, the excitement of having finally made a new friend bubbling over. Even then, he knew it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

**_Present Day_ **

Brock woke up with a broad smile on his face. He glanced down. José was clinging to him like a koala, still sleeping soundly, and it was the most beautiful damn sight he had ever seen. It was hard to believe last night – the entirety of the previous day, really – actually happened. It felt like he was finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, like he was finally getting where he so desperately wanted to be for the longest time.

José yawned, his eyes squeezing shut before opening them. He slowly tilted his head up, smiling sleepily when he saw Brock watching him. “You watchin’ me sleep, B?”

“Just a little.” He chuckled, raking his fingers through his thick, brown hair. He gently scratched his head and laughed softly because José let out a noise that sounded like one of his cats purring.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he assured, kissing his forehead. “You’re just cute.”

José picked his head up, smiling at him before dropping back down to his chest. “You still corny as hell,” he murmured with a subdued laugh.

Brock smiled, squeezing him close. “Maybe so, but you’re the one that’s a sucker for it,” he retorted. The calm contentment didn’t last much longer as his upcoming schedule crept up on him. “You know I have to get down to the studio today. I wanna get in one last solid rehearsal before the competition tomorrow.”

“Alright,” José agreed. “But I’m going with you to make sure you keep that shit short and sweet. I’m not finna let you overexert yourself and wind up with sore-ass legs the morning of. And you better bet I’mma make sure you eat all your meals today.”

Brock blinked, taken back by the sudden assertiveness in the smaller teen’s tone. Though at the same time, he was touched. He thought it was sweet that he jumped right into making sure he took care of himself, he’d come to realize that was how José expressed affection. His mother was like that too, but it was especially endearing with him. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to prioritize self-care in the midst of this very important competition,” he told him.

“I’m just not ‘boutta let you psych yourself out,” he replied simply. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Brock smiled, squeezing him close. “You’re right,” he leaned down and kissed his forehead before actually getting himself to sit up. “Is there any point in taking a shower if I’m gonna get all sweaty and gross in the studio?” He watched as his boyfriend lazily shook his head. “Alright, breakfast it is.”

José pushed into an upright position as well. “Yeah? Whatcha making me?”

“Cereal.”

Everything was business as usual when Brock and José entered the studio. But as Brock was warming up, José guided his coach off to the side for a moment. “Listen, we probably already on the same page for this, but I just wanna be sure. I don’t want him to push himself too hard today, ‘cause he’s gonna burn the candle on both hands and I want him to have energy and strength tomorrow, you know?”

Anna chuckled, clasping her hand on José’s shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, hon. And you’re not wrong about him. But it’s my job to keep him at his best, not just pushing him to his limits.”

He nodded, feeling a bit silly for going out of his way to say that – she was right, it was her job. But he couldn’t shake the need to take care of Brock. Maybe, he thought, it was because he wasn’t able to protect him from Kyle, and now he had to make sure he never let him get hurt again. Especially not because of him. “Right, yeah. You guys do your thing, I’ll just… be over there.”

“Hey.” She stopped him right before he could slip away. “He’s lucky to have a boyfriend like you.”

José opened his mouth to correct her, but then stopped himself and just smiled. “Thanks,” he said as he walked off to the side. Hearing Brock referred to as his boyfriend sounded like music to his ears and made his heart swell in his chest. He knew eventually they would have to put some sort of label onto whatever it was they had – he was never a fan of ambiguity. But he had also come to realize that talking about their feelings was like pulling teeth, so he had to broach the subject delicately.

Maybe that was why dancing came so naturally to them. José watched as Brock moved with such grace and ease, while still able to convey depth and passion that words could never capture. Words could get muddled and mixed up, the movement was straightforward and fluid, there was nothing to be miscommunicated.

Brock took a deep breath when he finally finished for the day, chugging down almost an entire bottle of water in one go. “That felt good. It felt solid.”

“You are gonna eat that shit up tomorrow,” José said with certainty. “Now c’mon, sweaty. You gotta hit the showers,” he added, walking with him into the locker room. “Oh, uh, my mama texted me during rehearsal. She wants to know if you wanna come over for dinner. And listen, you totally don’t have to if you just wanna rest up and take it easy or–”

“Are you kidding? I’d never turn down your mom’s cooking,” he said as he undressed and stepped into the shower.

“It’s not that, it’s um…” José was glad Brock was in the shower and not watching him shift and fidget awkwardly. “My older brother’s already home for Thanksgiving, and when he’s with my younger brother, they’re still a little, you know… rough around the edges.”

Brock shrugged, stepping back out and drying off shortly after. “I’m not worried about them. They can’t scare me off that easily,” he said, getting his clothes on and gathering his belongings up in his bag.

“That’s kinda hot,” José remarked with a smirk.

He laughed and threw his arm around the shorter teen as they left. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if they give us shit, we can just have loud sex in your room to get back at them.”

José looked up at him, admittedly a bit surprised that he was able to talk like that after just one time together. “Can… we do that even if they don’t?”

Brock snorted and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah, even if they don’t.”

They went back to Brock’s house for the rest of the afternoon. After a light lunch, they retreated to the bedroom to watch TV. And they sat in relative silence until José cleared his throat. “I know we’re still shitty at talking about how we feel and all, but…” He gestured vaguely as he tried to figure out how to phrase it. “Anna called me your boyfriend and I really liked how it sounded. But I gotta know where you stand on that.”

Not unexpectedly, Brock didn’t know how to answer and sat silently for a few moments. In actuality, he knew exactly where he stood, he’d been standing there for eight years. But even knowing how José felt didn’t quell his fear of coming on too strong or taking it too far. So, just like always, he chose his words slowly and carefully. “I also like the idea of you being my boyfriend. I have for a while now. And… I see us together, not like the way we used to be, a better version of us together.”

Instead of a verbal response, José simply tackled Brock onto the bed and kissed him deeply. He couldn’t have articulated how he felt if he tried. There was happiness, relief, nerves, a little bit of arousal, just so much hitting at once. “Guess it’s official, then,” he murmured against his lips.

“It’s official,” Brock confirmed, holding him close and covering his face in small kisses. “We’re boyfriends again,” he beamed.

“Dinner’s gonna be a little more interesting now,” he mused, then glanced over and saw the time on his phone. “Which we better start getting ready for. She wants us there at six.”

Brock nodded, reluctantly untangling himself from José to change into a button-down shirt and jeans. He fixed up his hair and dabbed on a bit of cologne as well. “Alright, we good to go?”

José gave a thumbs up and the two of them left hand-in-hand, the same way they walked into his house. They looked around, his mother was in the kitchen and his brothers were on the couch, watching sports. “Don’t be fucking rude, say hi to Brock,” he said to them.

The two brothers looked up, nonplussed, and offered casual greetings before their attention completely refocused on the screen.

Realizing that that would be the extent of their interaction, Brock and José went and said hi to Anabel before going up to José’s bedroom. There, they waited idly until everyone was called in for dinner.

“So, what, you guys are dating again like when you were kids?” one of José’s brothers asked.

“You know what the difference is,” the older brother chimed in.

“Haha, gross.”

Their mother glared at them. “ _Ambos cierran la boca antes de que lo haga por ti_ ,” she snapped in a firm warning that swiftly silenced them.

Brock and José didn’t do much but shift awkwardly. They weren’t completely wrong, in all fairness, but Brock definitely understood what José had meant by ‘rough around the edges’, and luckily they were able to make it through the meal without further incident.

When everyone was done and about to retire to their respective rooms, José’s older brother guided Brock off to the side. José noticed this and immediately went over to them. “Yo, I dunno what shit you’re about to pull but–”

“It’s okay, babe,” Brock assured. “Go upstairs, I’ll meet you there.” Then, he turned back to face the brother, standing in a way that he was taller and couldn’t be easily intimidated.

“Look,” he started, “I’m only saying this ‘cause I care about my little brother. I just think this shit’s weird. Not even ‘cause of the gay thing. But it’s just like… this childhood fantasy thing. How’s that ever gonna be a real love?”

The answer came surprisingly easy to Brock. At least, it must’ve, because he answered without his usual hesitation. “Yes, I fell in love with him when we were kids, that’s how I know it was real. Nothing else is as pure, as sincere. When you’re a child, you love with your whole heart, because that’s all you know how to do. That’s the type of love that stays with you forever. And that’s why I never fell _out_ of love with him.”

José had been standing just out of their field of vision, listening in, in case he needed to step in and defend his boyfriend. But what he’d heard had caught him utterly by surprise and touched him in a way he’d never felt before. He didn’t hear how his brother responded, he rushed upstairs before either of them could notice.

Brock slowly opened the bedroom door, letting himself in. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t get a verbal response, though. Instead, as soon as he was in his reach, José pulled him into a deep kiss that he melted right into. He fell back on the bed with him, refusing to be the first one to pull away.

Reluctantly, José pulled back when the urge to breathe beat out the desire to keep kissing. “I heard what you said,” he confessed, still breathless from the passionate embrace. “I heard what you said and I realized I love you too. I love you in a way I ain’t never loved before. And I don’t know what that means but I know it means a fucking lot.”

“I…” Brock’s head was spinning and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. He needed a moment just to take that all in – José had heard him admit his feelings, not only that, he reciprocated them. Their relationship had jumped up so many levels so fast, but at the same time, it felt like the natural progression – they were _supposed_ to be in love, it’s what they were destined for. “God, it means everything to me to hear you say that.”

He smiled and kissed him again. “This has been one fuckin’ day, huh?”

“Yeah,” the blonde exhaled, laying down on his back with an arm wrapped around his boyfriend. “Dunno how I’m supposed to calm down and relax for tomorrow,” he remarked with a laugh.

Suddenly, José perked up with a smirk. “I know what to do about that,” he said and got up, pulling Brock along so he was sitting on the side of the bed.

Brock sat with his feet on the floor and watched while the shorter teen sunk to his knees. “Oh, I think I know where you’re going with this,” he grinned, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You’re just so smart,” José teased as he undid Brock’s jeans, tugging them down to his ankles with his boxers following suit. He looked up at him, making heavy eye contact as he spat on his hand and wrapped it around his length, stroking slowly and steadily.

It didn’t take much for Brock to start to get hard. He bit down on his lip, gaze fixated on José, who had built up his pace as he jerked him off, then teasingly lapped at the head of his cock.

José smirked to himself, then focused his attention exclusively on the task at hand. He dragged his tongue from the head all the way down and back up. Then, with one hand resting on Brock’s thigh to steady himself, he took his length in inch by inch, occasionally flicking his eyes back up to him.

“Shit…” Brock grunted softly, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting back. His breathing grew heavier and he bit down on his lip. He tangled his fingers through José’s hair, gripping just a bit.

After another moment, José had managed to get Brock’s length all the way down his throat. His forehead rested against his lower abdomen as he focused his breathing through his nose. The hand on his thigh grabbed tighter while his free hand wiggled into his jeans so he could get himself off as well.

Brock was struggling to keep himself still and quiet, unsure if he was able to do both. The hand that wasn’t tugging José’s hair was clamped over his mouth to stifle his moans. As much as he tried to keep his body planted firmly on the bed, his hips rolled up every now and then.

José didn’t mind it. In fact, he thought it was hot that he could get him to lose control like that. He bobbed his head faster, with more fervor, eager to get him off.

And it was working. It was working very well. Brock was moaning louder, his hips were jerking erratically. He was cursing under his breath and all but yanking José’s hair. He tried to get out a warning, but when his orgasm hit, all he could do is cry out his lover’s name in a heated moment of pleasure.

José was ready, picking up on the physical cues and relaxed his throat in anticipation. He swallowed his load, lingering until he was certain his boyfriend was fully spent, then slowly eased off of him. In that time, he’d gotten himself off as well, making quick work of cleaning off before he stood back up and kissed him. “You relaxed now?”

Brock needed a moment to catch his breath. “Oh yeah.” He nodded. “I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

José grinned in satisfaction, getting in bed, pleased with a job well done. Their day may have been a rollercoaster, but they were ending it in each other’s arms, so it was all worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

Brock stared at himself in the vanity mirror. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, maybe a sudden burst of energy, of enthusiasm, something to alleviate the knot of anxiety in his stomach. 

Then José walked in with timing so perfect, Brock momentarily wondered if the universe had literally answered his prayers. “You ready for this, big guy?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied, placing his hand on top of José’s for a moment, then turned to face him. “But now I’ve got my good luck charm.” His tone brightened up as his arms looped around his boyfriend’s waist. 

“Who, me?” José batted his lashes innocently, then let out a laugh louder than he intended, needing to clap his hand over his mouth. “You don’t need luck, but I’m glad to give you a boost,” he told him, kissing his temple. 

Brock grinned fondly. “I always need you, baby,” he cooed sweetly. “You need to go take a seat though, I’m up any minute now,” he said, sharing a quick kiss before José left to take his seat in the audience.

The performance itself was a bit of a blur for Brock. He knew he was nailing every move (or at least hoped he was), but it didn’t feel like he was on stage. It was calm, like he was alone in the studio, headphones in and the world tuned out. This was his zen, his happy place. It was one of the only things in his life that he was unequivocally confident in, for better or for worse.

And when he was done, he still had a rush of endorphins washing over him. Brock had never quite understood what people meant when they described something as ‘as good as sex,’ but he could now comfortably admit that while sex won out, this was definitely close. 

He went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. That was it. It was over. Win, lose, or draw, there was nothing he could do to change the impending outcome. And waiting was the hardest part. 

“All competitors please return to the stage.” 

The loudspeaker announcement was repeated a couple more times as the dancers made their way back to the stage. Everyone was full of the same nerves and anticipation, but Brock could hardly focus on anything, even when awards were being given out. All he could focus on were people moving across the stage to get their awards.

“And first place overall goes to…”

Brock had already come to terms with not placing. All the confidence he’d had during his performance had inexplicably dissipated. He was practicing his ‘I’m okay, I just need to try harder next time’ speech in his mind. He could get over this, it wasn’t the end of the world, he just–

“Brock Hayhoe!”

Nothing had ever snapped him back into reality faster. He nearly tripped over himself as he walked up to get his trophy, beaming broadly. Now, he was wondering why he’d doubted himself at all. He hadn’t been delusional during his performance, it was a culmination of everything he had been working for. He _deserved_ this, and damn it, he was going to enjoy his moment.

And when he was finally allowed offstage, Brock ran right to where his mom, coach, and José were waiting. The only thing better than having this moment was sharing it with the people he loved. “We did it!”

“ _You_ did it.” Anna smiled with pride. “You’re the one that put in all the effort and hard work. We helped along the way.”

“And I couldn’t have done it without that help,” he replied as a compromise. He was too elated to argue, and moved right on, giving them all a hug, and José a big kiss on the lips. 

“Let me see this shiny prize.” José grinned, picking up the trophy. “It’s gonna fit real nice in that spot you got saved for it,” he mused. “You sure as hell earned it.”

Brock chuckled softly, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “I told you, you’re my good luck charm.”

José grinned as he pulled his jacket on and handed Brock his. “The argument’s getting pretty compelling, I’ma give you that,” he admitted, leaning into his boyfriend’s side when the taller teen wrapped his arm around him, and stayed close as they made their way into the parking lot and said their goodbyes to Anna.

### 

Brock had been riding the high of winning the competition well through Thanksgiving and into early December. He was finally able to quell the harsh voices in his mind that filled him with doubt and anxiety. Every time he looked at that trophy, front and center on his shelf, he was reminded that finally, everything was paying off just as he’d hoped. 

And José’s voice was louder than all of those negative ones anyway. The two of them remained nearly inseparable, both of them watching TV in Brock’s room when suddenly, Joan called them downstairs. They jumped up and raced down – she was clearly either excited or concerned based on her high-pitched tone.

“What’s going on?” Brock asked.

She handed a large envelope to him. “You have mail.”

“It’s from the Boston Conservatory,” he read, his voice suddenly hushed. “I applied for an early decision,” he explained to José. His logic had been that he would only do that for his top choice. That way, if he got in, he got the decision making out of the way early, and if he didn’t, he would have more time to work on a new plan. 

“It’s big, that’s a good sign,” José offered. 

“You think anything big is a good sign,” Brock retorted, making sure he whispered soft enough for his mom not to hear. With a deep breath, he opened the letter, but closed his eyes as he took the piece of paper in the front out. He kept his eyes shut for another moment before finally reading his fate. “I… I got in,” he said before it really hit. “I got in!”

“You got in!” José was much louder, hugging him tightly. 

Joan put her hand over her heart as she looked on with pride. “I can’t believe you’re moving across the country, I’m so proud of you. Oh, I’ve got to go call your grandmother,” she remarked gleefully as she went into the other room. 

But José’s enthusiasm started to die down. “You’re moving across the country?”

“Well, yeah, that’s where Massachusetts is,” he explained as they went back to his room and sat down on his bed. 

José shook his hands out and tried to hype himself back up. This was Brock’s moment, he wasn’t going to ruin it over those details. “Cool, yeah. I’m happy for you. I knew you was gonna get into a good school.”

“José, I…”

He shook his head, already feeling guilty because Brock didn’t sound so excited anymore. “No, no, we ain’t doing this right now. We’re celebrating you. Because I’m happy for you.” His voice eased from defensive to sincere, his expression softening. “Because I love you.” 

Brock’s expression relaxed into a smile. “I love you too.” He took both of José’s hands into his own. “And we’re gonna celebrate, okay? We’ll go out for dinner, see if we can convince my mom to let us have some champagne.” He started to kiss along his jawline as he spoke. “Then we’ll come back here and celebrate in our own way.”

José didn’t mean to laugh, but he thought it was cute how Brock was just trying to distract him. And he let it work, he had no reason not to. He knew they would have to sit and talk about their feelings eventually, but that could wait. Maybe if he waited long enough, Brock would forget about it entirely.

### 

Brock sighed, strumming his fingers against the table and sipping his iced coffee. If there was one thing he needed, it was to talk to his friends, especially since Courtney and Steve had been on this relationship journey with him from the beginning. “I just feel bad, you know. I get how he feels, getting into this school is everything to me, but up until that, he was everything to me. I just don’t know where to go from here.”

Courtney frowned and scooted her chair closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

“Of course, that’s not even a question.”

“Good,” Steve chimed in, “because we were both ready to kick your ass all the way from here to Boston.” 

Courtney nodded in agreement, but quickly went back to being concerned. “Have you guys talked about it yet?”

“Not yet,” Brock told her. “I will, I promise. We just both kind of came to the conclusion that we didn’t want to let that sour the mood. He knows I know that something wasn’t right, and that we have to work things out. But I have faith, I’m not too worried.”

His friends nodded in understanding; even if they wouldn’t outright say it, they had become invested in the final outcome as well. “When are you seeing him next?” Steve asked.

Brock glanced out the door of the Starbucks. “I’m actually going right to his place from here, wish me luck.” He hugged both his friends before he got up. “Oh, wait,” he paused, texting José, then getting back in line shortly after. 

So the first thing he did when José let him inside was hand him his coffee. “See? I told you I knew what your usual was.” 

José took a sip, then gave a signal of approval. “You did good, baby. You did good.” He gestured to him to follow upstairs and they went into his bedroom. He sat cross-legged on his bed and looked up at Brock expectantly. He knew what was coming, neither of them said so, but it was a gut feeling. 

And Brock knew exactly what José was thinking, so he saw no need to beat around the bush. He spun the desk chair around so when he sat, they were face-to-face. And with a deep exhale, he ripped the bandage off. “I know you’re upset that I’m going so far away. Let’s talk about it.” 

He didn’t think he would ever get used to how comfortable Brock was with being blunt with him. It was a relatively new development, considering how long they had spent dancing around their feelings. It was jarring – _he_ was usually the one to take the ‘no bullshit’ approach. “With you bein’ all the way across the country without me aren’t you gonna forget about me? What’s gonna stop you from moving on?”

Brock frowned, the sadness in his boyfriend’s eyes absolutely crushed him. “I couldn’t forget about you if I tried, and believe me I’ve tried. In case you’ve forgotten, I couldn’t forget about my feelings for you after five years, I think I can make it a few months at a time.” 

“It’s _different_ , B,” José insisted. “We still saw each other almost every day, even though we didn’t talk. When you’re in Boston, you’re gonna meet all kinds of cool East Coast people… maybe you won’t need me anymore.” 

“Oh, baby…” Brock frowned and cupped his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t think you understand just how incredible and unique you are. I could travel across the whole world, meet new people every day, and I know for a fact that no one will ever hold a candle to you. You are so special, you always have been.” He placed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “Do you have a college plan yet?”

José looked down and away, shaking his head. “I dunno if I’m the college type, boo. Maybe community college. My mama wants me to go to a trade school, learn some practical shit like plumbing or welding or whatever.”

“And those are both great options if that’s what you want to do,” Brock assured, then paused. “What do _you_ wanna do?”

He laughed humorlessly, chewing on his lip. “You really wanna know?”

“Of course.”

“I wanna go to beauty school.” It was the first time he had actually said it out loud, but if José could confide in anyone, he knew it would be his boyfriend. “You know, do hair and makeup and all that… but it ain’t easy to make a living off of that.” 

Brock moved to sit next to him on the bed. “If that’s what you’re passionate about, that’s what you have to do. If you want to be a makeup artist, I know you’re gonna be the best makeup artist around. You always give your all with everything you’re passionate about.”

José looked at him with a soft smile and a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You think so? ‘Cause, I mean, I could look for schools out there, don’t really matter what state I get licensed in.”

“Now we’re talking,” he encouraged. “We could get an apartment together, it’ll be cheaper than room and board. I mean, it’s a big step, but…”

“No, wait, I like the sound of that,” José brightened up. “You and me in our own little place, being all domestic and shit… That’s real cute, I see that for us.” 

Brock wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to commit to anything yet. You’ve got plenty of time, but now you know that you’ve got options, that we can make it work.” He ran his fingers gently through José’s hair. “And if you decide you don’t wanna make that move, we’ll do the long distance thing. We’ll have phone calls and FaceTime, we’ll be able to meet up at every break.”

José tossed his now-empty cup in the trash and laid down, tugging on Brock to join him and cuddling into his side. “Truth is, I don’t see any future without you in it. I know we haven’t been back together all that long, but… I dunno, I just know, you know?” 

“I know.” He chuckled lightly. “I feel that too. Like… it feels fast, but fast is the right speed.”

“Could be ‘cause we already put in four years of work,” José mused. “You know, built the foundation.”

Brock held José close and kissed his forehead. “We have a great foundation. Sturdy,” he hummed.

### 

José let out a frustrated huff. “Will you fucking hold still?”

“I’m trying!” Brock insisted. “I’m not used to things poking me in the eye like that,” he whined, doing his best to keep his face and body still so José could keep going. 

And he did appreciate the effort, holding Brock’s head steady with one hand while he continued the eye makeup with the other. He had already come far too close to completely messing up the eye, and he wasn’t about to risk anything now that he was so close to getting this second eye. “Oooh shit, this is looking real pretty. Definitely the best eye look so far.” 

“I can’t wait to see it,” Brock hummed.

“You’re gonna love it. Now shut up so I can do your lips,” José said as he set the brush and palette down and picked up the lip liner. “I’ma try to overline it again, I watched more tutorials so I think I can get it right this time.” 

Brock didn’t want to disrupt him again, so he just stayed completely still while José continued with his masterpiece.

“Okay, just needs setting spray and it’s done,” José announced, spritzing over his boyfriend’s face, then taking a step back to admire his handiwork. “And that’s it, go on and take a look.”

Brock opened his eyes right away and looked in the mirror. “Oh wow, babe, this came out so good,” he beamed brightly. “I am so impressed, you’re really getting better each time.” 

“Good, gotta build up that portfolio,” he hummed, grabbing his phone. “Alright, look at me and give me fashion.”

“Fashion, got it,” he giggled, then did his best to give a ‘model’ pose while José took pictures. 

José gave a nod of approval when he decided he’d gotten enough options. “I think that’s a wrap,” he hummed. “You’ll help me pick which ones to send to Courtney, right?” After Brock had explained José’s new endeavor to his friend, she had offered to edit them to enhance his portfolio even more. So far, he had built up a decent repertoire, as he was lucky enough to have plenty of friends – and a very supportive and patient boyfriend – that were happy to be painted by him. 

“Of course. I say we pick a top three at most, that should be enough to work with,” Brock suggested as he got up. He wrapped his arms around José’s waist. “I am so proud of you, you’ve really dove into this, and any cosmetology school is gonna be lucky to have you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” José beamed. “Literally, couldn’t afford all this fuckin’ makeup on my own,” he teased, then looked up at him sincerely. “No, but really, thank you for believing in me, I knew you had to be the first person I told for a reason.” 

Brock ruffled José’s hair lightly. “There should never be any doubt in your mind that I believe in you more than anything. You’ve supported me through so much when it comes to my dreams, now, I’m just happy I get to do the same for you.”

José leaned his head against Brock’s chest, holding him close. “We make a good team, don’t we? Hopefully we can keep being a good team in Boston.” 

“Don’t worry, babe,” Brock smiled, rubbing his boyfriend’s back, “even if we can’t, it’ll take a lot more than three thousand miles to break up this team.”


End file.
